Blind, But Now
by A Perplexing Puzzle
Summary: Blind!Link AU. Trapped on the surface after dark, Link and Ghirahim have an encounter that neither of them understand. Sloooooow burn GhiraLink. Blindness, anxiety, selective mutism. Continued from one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

Link trudged wearily across the damp forest terrain, repressing a wince at every _squelch_ announcing his presence through the early evening air. Although the Water Dragon had finally deigned to drain the forest, it was still not what Link would call 'dry'. The muddy earth sucked and pulled at each step, his tunic still dripped with water, and each monster destroyed by the flood had been replaced by a hundred buzzing insects. Even the air was moist, clinging to his skin and coating his mouth with the sticky taste of decay. Still, the flood must have done its job. According to Fi, there was an 87% decrease in monsters, and a 95% chance of sleeping uninterrupted through the night if they found a decent camping place. Link would have much preferred a warm bed in Skyloft to a night hunched in a tree, but retrieving the Water Dragon's portion of the Song of the Hero had taken longer than expected. At this rate he wouldn't make it to the sky until dark, and Loftwings were notorious for their terrible night vision. He was stranded after a hard day's work without so much as cold soup for supper. It felt like insult added to injury.

He slapped at a mosquito on his neck in irritation, and nearly fell on his face when the mud sucked greedily at his boot. It wasn't that he blamed the Water Dragon for doubting him—not exactly, not when the same doubts crossed his mind daily—but it still rankled that she in particular forced him to prove the fact over and over with her menial tasks, refusing to accept that the goddess might have chosen a blind hero. _Miserable old_ _—_

"Master." His sword chimed gently, pulsing in his hand, and Link paused, wiping damp sweat from his face.

"Yeah?"

"I sense a tree nearby, fifty paces to your left." Fi's voice was sweet and musical as always, but carried no hint of emotion. "It is tall and wide, with a sturdy branch halfway up that would make a suitable resting place. I sense no monsters in the immediate area, and thus recommend sleeping here for the night, as returning to Skyloft is no longer a viable option."

Another night in a tree it was. Link sighed, turning to his left and holding out his sword expectantly. "Lead the way."

The sword didn't pull him. It wasn't capable of moving without his direction, any more than it could fight his enemies for him. Instead it vibrated in his hands, barely perceptible when he chose the correct path but stronger when he went astray, and he interpreted those vibrations. A strange process, but they'd perfected it to the point that it worked seamlessly. He and Fi had even worked out similar signals to guide his way in battle, useful for facing opponents that required greater accuracy and finesse than even his sharpened instincts could match. With the Master Sword in hand and Fi at his side, Link was far from helpless, no matter what the Water Dragon might think. Of course, without Fi… the prospect was enough to give him nightmares.

Another chime from the sword made him stop, sheathing it behind his back and reaching out in front of him until his fingers met rough bark. Although he tried to avoid sleeping on the surface when possible, it had happened often enough that he'd worked out a routine. Methodically, he worked his way around the tree, getting a feel for its size and texture. He guessed that it was about as wide as he was tall, which meant he'd be climbing quite a distance to reach the halfway mark. With a wry smile, he grabbed a branch and pulled himself up, making his way from handhold to handhold with only occasional guidance from Fi. At least they had trees in Skyloft, if not quite so large, and he'd been climbing since he was three.

When he finally reached the branch Fi had chosen as a resting place, he felt it out carefully, mapping its size and shape in his mind. It was long and sturdy, barely bending under his weight. As usual, Fi had chosen well. Next, he felt at the tree's trunk until he found a short, sturdy knot of a branch within arm's reach that seemed capable of hanging his supplies. His shield and pack were discarded and hung with a grateful shrug of his shoulders, followed more reluctantly by his scabbarded sword. He would have kept it on him at all times if possible, but it had only taken one night of uncomfortable half-sleep with the hilt poking into his back to convince him to relent.

Undoing the leather pouch Fledge had given him what seemed like an age ago, Link ran a finger along the specially-marked cork stoppers of his small bottle collection, hefting each in turn. He frowned as he came across one that seemed unusually light, only a quarter full at most.

"Remind me to pick up some red potion at the bazaar tomorrow," he told Fi as he refastened his pouch and setting it aside, only absently noting the 'Yes, master,' she gave in reply. He'd intended to set out for Eldin Volcano as soon as possible, but he knew better than to go exploring without a good supply of potions—and breakfast. If he left early, he'd still have the whole afternoon to start his search for the Fire Dragon. No doubt Luv would be startled to see him back so soon, but with each attempt at freedom, the sealed abomination of the demon king grew more difficult—and painful—to subdue. Even with Groose's help, it was only a matter of time before—

A sudden, foreign weight settled beside him on the branch, and Fi's sharp chime of warning cut off as the branch holding his supplies broke with a snap. Raising his head in alarm, Link could do nothing but listen to the crash of his belongings through the tree grow fainter, until even that was gone. The silence stretched as what had happened slowly sunk in. _Fi._ If she hadn't appeared already, she must be out of range. He was alone, disarmed and defenseless. Worse, he realized as the branch he was on shifted, he was _not_ alone.

Link froze as small vibrations shook the branch, suppressing his sudden panic with a deep, measured breath. Footsteps. The creature inhabiting the branch was coming closer. Backing slowly down the branch until his back met the trunk, he wracked his mind for a creature he'd met in the forest capable of climbing trees or flying. The weight felt too heavy to be a crow. Fi had claimed not to sense any monsters in the area, so… Link sighed, running a hand through bangs that still hadn't dried properly. Of course. The flood must have driven at least a couple Kikwi into the trees for safety. One must have fallen down from a higher branch, knocking his supplies off in the process. Just his luck tonight.

"Hello?" he called, reaching an open hand out in a placating gesture. Even a startled Kikwi could be dangerous if it sent him plummeting, and it would take more than an almost empty bottle of potion to mend a broken bone. "Who's there? Do you need help?"

A delighted chuckle came in response, halting his hand mid-motion.

"What a generous offer, sky child! Yes, I do believe you are just the hero I need."

Horror coursed through him, the muggy sweat on his brow seeming to freeze all at once. _Ghirahim_. Unbidden, his last encounter with the Demon Lord spun up from the recesses of his mind. Had it been two weeks since Ghirahim's furious last words to him? More?

He didn't need Fi's percentages to know how this would end up, even if she had been around to give them. Blind and alone, stuck up a tree without a weapon… his best case scenario was that Ghirahim would choose to kill him quickly, and even that seemed unlikely if Ghirahim still intended to pull the location of the second gate of time out of him. No, his death would be slow, if it came at all.

"I understand that my presence can be breathtaking, but I need you to breathe." Ghirahim laughed, and Link realized that his breath was caught somewhere in his throat. A smooth, cool hand touched the back of his clammy neck, and he shuddered uncontrollably. "Breathe, Link."

He did, a rough intake of air that he instantly choked on. Coughing, he doubled over, noticing vaguely through his panicked haze that the hand on his neck followed him down, steadying his balance on the branch. His whole face burned with anger, and with shame. If only he could fight, if only he could _see!_ It wasn't fair to have come so close, only to be taken off guard so easily. His face twisted, thinking of Zelda still asleep in the prison of her own creation. Who would keep back the Imprisoned now? The Water Dragon had been right to doubt him. Groose had been right to laugh. Someone else would have to take up the fallen mantle of the Hero, because he'd failed.

 _Zelda, I'm sorry_ _…_

"What a precarious perch to choose as a nest," Ghirahim said, for all the world as if Link's life wasn't crumbling to pieces. "You'll forgive me for taking the opportunity to separate you from your sword. It was the only way to ensure a civil conversation between the two of us—just the two of us," he added, the curl of a sneer entering his voice. "I assure you, your… _companion_ will be returned in due time."

 _What?_ Disbelief welled up inside him, along with a thousand burning questions that itched to escape. However, as always seemed to happen around Ghirahim, the words became mired in his throat and refused to push past his lips. He settled instead on assuming what he hoped was a skeptical frown, craning his neck away from the intrusive touch.

"You doubt my word?" Ghirahim laughed, but the sound quickly turned into a snarl, his fingers digging painfully into Link's neck despite his feeble attempts to shake him off. "Or perhaps you think that someone of my position must now stoop to cornering blind, defenseless children in trees. I may have twice allowed you to escape with your life— _allowed,_ I say—but do not think that I could not _end it_ in a second if I so desired."

Link said nothing, waiting in confused silence until the demon's agitated breathing softened and his fingers loosened their grip. It made no sense, but… a small bubble of hope rose at the thought that maybe this wasn't the end of everything after all. Of course, "in due time" could mean almost anything. He couldn't trust Ghirahim as far as he could see, whatever he said. Still, that tiny hope burned…

"Ahh, but here I am, letting my anger run away with me again," Ghirahim sighed, stroking his fingers softly over Link's neck as if in apology. The action was almost as unnerving as the pain. It reminded Link of someone attempting to soothe a panicking Remlit. "What can I say? You inspire a full gamut of emotions in me, Link. If only your goddess did not inspire such foolhardy loyalty in you. If only you did not insist on stumbling beneath my feet at the most inopportune moments…"

He trailed off, and a strange silence descended between them that might have been companionable if he'd been with anyone else. Link's fingers tapped nervously against his thigh before he could stop them. He felt taut, stretched almost to the breaking point. In his experience, Ghirahim was quite adept at holding lengthy conversations by himself with no input from Link at all. What was he doing? Why was he here?

"Well," Ghirahim said finally, and Link's ears twitched in surprise. "That's beside the point, isn't it? I came here for a purpose after all, and if I leave you to quiver here any longer, you'll shake yourself to jelly."

Link's face twisted in indignation—he was not quivering!—but he was distracted by a sudden flurry of metallic _'clinks'_ as Ghirahim's weight disappeared from the branch. His startled relief was cut short as he reappeared, closer this time— _much_ closer. Two hands wrapped around his own, and he jerked away instinctively, only for his back to hit rough bark. He was, quite literally, cornered.

"Self preservation," Ghirahim admonished, working his fingers beneath the leather of Link's gloves. Removing them, Link realized with a start. "You've never shown an aptitude for it in the past, but I must warn you that you are quite the proficient climber. A fall from this height would be… unpleasant. For you." Link craned his head back at the breath of a light chuckle against his face, and received a flick on the cheek for his effort. "I myself rather enjoy the sounds you make when you're in pain."

Ghirahim's fingers were thin and deft, and before long Link's gloves and gauntlets had been tossed aside, his wrists held firm in surprisingly strong hands. A thumb brushed ever so lightly across his palm, and he shivered at the touch.

"Sensitive," Ghirahim murmured with satisfaction. "Understandable, I suppose. I was certainly taken aback at learning of your—shall we say infirmity?—when last we met. It was quite the shock, I must admit! To think you managed to keep such a secret for so long…"

He had not kept it on purpose. Their first "battle" at Skyview Temple had barely deserved the name, with only a sharp warning from Fi and quick reflexes with the shield saving him from being impaled on his own sword. Even after he'd managed some semblance of competence in their duel—only because the demon was toying with him, he was sure—Ghirahim had been gleeful to point out Link's utter dependence on his sword. It hadn't even occurred to him then that Ghirahim didn't know. But later, at the Fire Sanctuary…

" _Enough of this foolishness_ _…"_

 _Link crouched, sword at the ready, but he could tell from the strain in the other's voice, the quiet rasping of pained breaths, that his last strike had been the finishing blow. Their battle was over_ _… for now. Not that he dared let his guard down while the demon's dark presence pervaded the room, nearly as suffocating to Link's senses as the ever oppressive heat. When facing Ghirahim, anything was possible, and the next attack could come from anywhere. The ease with which he always managed to sneak up on Link was enough to make him shiver, despite the heat._

" _I am Ghirahim, Demon Lord! It shouldn't matter how powerful your sword is, you are still nothing_ _… Not just a human… A human child! And yet you prevail!"_

 _He scowled. Of course. It always came back to his sword. He may have been dependent on Fi's help, but he'd still learned since the last time they met. Ghirahim had expended much more of his effort in this battle than before, Link was sure, and he still had not managed to subdue him. At the very least, he was no longer someone to be toyed with._

" _You filthy scamp!" The sudden rage in Ghirahim's voice made his ears stand up, and his grip on his sword tightened. There was something unstable in it now, something that set him on edge. "You disrespectful brat! LOOK AT ME when I'm speaking to you!"_

Look at me when… _Confused realization crashed over him, and the tip of his sword fell almost to the ground as he stood up straight._

" _I_ _… can't." He was so surprised, the words slipped out without thought—the first words he'd ever said to him. Concentrating, he turned his head to where he thought Ghirahim's eyes must be in relation to his voice. In this strange land of glowing heat, he could make out nothing but shadows._

" _You can't?" Ghirahim spat out. "What do you mean you_ _—"_

 _He cut off in sudden comprehension. The air between them quivered as a dawning realization came over them both, humming and warping as it did whenever Ghirahim was particularly furious. Link's heart sank. He hadn't known._

" _You can't," he said again, and his voice could have frozen the heart of the volcano. "You_ _… Boy, you have awakened a wrath that will burn for eons! I swear to you, whatever it takes, I_ will _drag you into an eternity of torment."_

 _The promise came out as a hiss. Even later, when the air had lightened with Ghirahim's departure and the sacred flame retrieved, the chill of it remained in his heart._

"Of course, you can imagine how very irritating this affair has been for me," Ghirahim continued, and Link came immediately back to the present, stunned.

 _What?_

"All that effort spent on presentation, all for naught!" Ghirahim sighed dramatically, the breath of it ruffling Link's hair. "You may not know it, Link, but appearances are everything. In truth, I once despaired over your continuing lack of respect, but now I understand completely. I had simply failed to make the impression I thought I had." He leaned forward until their foreheads touched, his smooth skin cold against Link's sweaty brow. "Allow me to remedy that failure."

 _He's upset that I didn't_ _… appreciate him?_ It was too much. He was too close, the strange metallic scent of him overpowering, and Link still didn't understand what he wanted. Straining, he tried to make the words come out. He'd spoken to Ghirahim once—twice even, if tonight counted. He could do it again.

"I…" he managed finally, hating the way his voice shook. "I don't… understand…"

Ghirahim shushed him, moving Link's hands to rest against his face, and the rest of the words evaporated. He had thought Ghirahim's skin seemed smooth against him before, but with the more accurate sensitivity of his hands it felt almost unnaturally polished, like river rock, and cooler than human skin would be. Unlike stone, though, there was the slightest amount of give to his skin to prove that he was no statue—he was alive. Leaning back to allow better access, Ghirahim guided Link's hands carefully across his features, pausing every now and then so Link could finger the strange diamond seemingly etched into one of his cheeks, or the hard ridge where eyebrows should have been. Not that Ghirahim lacked for hair—a thin curtain of it swept across one side of his face, sleek and straight. The texture was so unlike his own rough tangles or even Zelda's well cared for hair that Link ran fascinated fingers through it, not noticing when Ghirahim's hands slipped away from his wrists and he was left to explore on his own.

Link's heart thudded hard in his chest, but not out of fear. He couldn't stop himself from tracing the angle of the other man's jaw, fingering the diamond-shaped gem that dangled from one ear, running his hands over the curves of those ears. He stopped in surprise at finding them mismatched—one was pointed like his own, while the other felt torn as if from a long-ago injury—but Ghirahim smoothly grabbed his wrists once more and led them away, resting Link's hands on his shoulders for just a moment before guiding them along hard, muscular arms.

"Lovely, aren't they?" Ghirahim said, and Link jerked, the strange spell broken along with the silence. Instinctively, he tried to pull his hands away, but the other's grip was firm. "You'll find the supple skin of my arms tougher than any armor. Doesn't their shape just leave you… breathless?" Strong fingers intertwined with his own, and Link could see how his sword might have failed to pierce that smooth, impenetrable skin.

Breath came rapidly now as his hands were led inward, towards Ghirahim's chest. A warm, heavy cloak was draped across it, fastened with a long metal chain. Link stroked it wonderingly—he'd never felt its like in Skyloft—yet even as he tried to grab a fistful of soft fabric, it disappeared from his hands with a metallic sigh. His brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask—if he'd been able to ask—his hands were instead pressed flat against Ghirahim's skin. It wasn't all skin, he realized. A thin layer of fabric stretched itself across some areas, but was mysteriously absent from others. After fingering the edges of fabric, Link soon realized that it too was cut to resemble a diamond. Even through the garment, whatever it was—Link couldn't imagine a practical purpose to the thing—his muscles were hard and defined, solid ridges across an unnaturally solid form. No heartbeat met his trembling fingers.

"Behold," Ghirahim whispered. "Such… _beauty_. Such an exquisite physique. Such stunning features."

Link's hands shook. He was light-headed, breathing too fast but unable to make himself stop. Whatever Ghirahim said about his appearance, surely that paled compared to this pure _sensation_. His hands moved lower, feeling the sash across his waist, the smooth diamond nestled at his side. Link's whole body trembled. Then Ghirahim started to lead his hands down again, down along slender hips, and it was too much.

" _Ghirahim_." The name slipped out of him like a plea, and he looked up to where Ghirahim's eyes must be, trying to meet his gaze. The hands stopped, and after an infinite moment of anticipation, disappeared from his wrists altogether.

"Yes," he said softly, drawing himself up, his weight shifting on the branch. "Perhaps that is enough for one meeting. I think I've made my point… quite thoroughly."

The metallic chime of Ghirahim's departure was familiar now, and Link slumped back against the tree in a daze, taking what felt like his first full breath in days. He barely stirred when Ghirahim's weight reappeared seconds later, further along the branch. It wasn't as if he'd expected him to leave just yet anyway.

"I believe… this accomplishes my goal for the evening." He sounded disconcerted for once, as if something had happened that even he was unsure of. "I once thought you would scurry to safety like any normal creature who values his own life, but now I think this is not the case. No, you are far too _brave_ for that. Pah!" he growled, making it clear that he didn't mean the word as a compliment. "How incredibly vexing."

He paused as if waiting for a response, but Link had none. He was exhausted, yet his senses buzzed on high alert as his mind spun in frenzied circles. His skin itched fiercely wherever Ghirahim had touched him. The feel of Ghirahim was thick on his fingers, the scent caught in his nose. Had he ever touched anyone like… that? His parents, maybe, but he couldn't remember his parents. Zelda? No, not Zelda, not like that.

"Do not think my mercy extends beyond tonight," Ghirahim said finally, his weight shifting irritably on the branch. "Too much work has gone into this to allow your blundering to ruin things now. If you must continue on this path… one of us will bleed by the end of it, Link, and I do not bleed."

With a snap of his fingers, he was gone, and as the seconds stretched on, Link realized that this time he'd left for good. A familiar weight fell into his lap, and he stirred, feeling it carefully with his hands just to make sure.

"Fi?" he whispered, and a soft chime came in response.

"Master." Her musical voice was almost the same monotone as always, though he thought he caught a hint of… worry? Relief? But then, he might have imagined it. "Forgive me for allowing myself to be separated from you. I am pleased to find you physically unharmed, but concerned by your apparent state of mental and emotional upheaval. How may I best assist you, master?"

"Stay," he said quickly, clutching the sword to his chest. "Please… can you stay?"

"Of course." Her familiar weight settled beside him, a much more comforting presence than Ghirahim's had been. He tried to put off the thought that it was somehow colder, too. "Friendly company is an effective method of calming an anxious mind. I will stay."

Ghirahim had neglected to return the rest of his items, which meant there was nothing for it but to climb back down and retrieve them. Even after he'd gathered them all up, scaled the tree once more, and settled down for the night, he found that he had no desire to let go of his sword ever again. Instead, he spent the night planning with Fi, theorizing on the locations of the dragons and trying to ignore the feel of Ghirahim still pressed into his skin. His imagined laughter seemed to rise on the breeze, and Link wondered if the demon still watched him, somewhere in the distance. It seemed strange suddenly that Ghirahim had neglected to even mention the Gate of Time. Had he come up with some other plan to reach Zelda? The night dragged on in useless wondering.

When the sun finally rose, he was secretly grateful to have avoided sleep for at least one night. A stamina potion would set him right, and soon he'd be exploring the volcano, putting some distance between himself and thoughts of Ghirahim—a very great distance, if he could manage it.

He feared the nightmares that would come... but he also feared his dreams might be something else entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

**IMPORTANT:** This is still the blind!Link AU, but the events of this chapter take place _before_ the events of the previous chapter, which means that Ghirahim is still a bit clueless. Maybe someday I'll post it all to AO3 in chronological order, but for now, wcyd? Sorry that this chapter is a little light on Link, but it's an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. Enjoy.

* * *

It was late afternoon, the low sun catching the mountain's smoky haze in an unnaturally orange glow, when a shimmering slash of light broke the tenuous calm of Eldin Volcano. The flash of motion that rent the air was almost too quick to see, though it left the impression of smooth metal and glittering diamonds and the sound of steel unsheathing itself. Before the heavy dust could eddy up in surprise, the light was gone, replaced by a tall pale figure wrapped in an extravagant red cloak.

The demon lord scowled, noting the volcanic heat that scorched his skin and dismissing it, just another irritating speck in the vast array of irritation that had filled these trying weeks. Too long had passed since the spirit maiden had slipped through his fingers and into the past, with too little to show for it. Long days had been spent seeking out ancient murals in long forgotten temples, while nights had him poring over obscure texts and manuscripts, all in an attempt to find any connection between this decaying land and the ancient glory of its past that might prove useful. All of these efforts, and still he'd found nothing! The frustration was almost too great to bear!

Still, he reminded himself, this was all just a temporary setback. The infuriating girl might have escaped him for now, but it couldn't last forever. The Goddess's dog would not have spirited her away to the past only to have her trapped there, separated from the needs of the present and her precious little… _hero_. There had to be _something_ —another gate of time, perhaps? But all of his frantic searching had been in vain. If… if there truly was no way to reach the spirit maiden…

With great difficulty, Ghirahim tamped down on the furious despair that rose within him at the prospect. No. No, that scenario did not bear contemplating. He _would_ find her, and take her, and the glorious might of the demon king would wield his true form once more.

It was only a slight stretch to say that this was what brought him to this dismally hot mountain now.

Dust crunched against pavement as he stepped quickly behind a broken column to assess his surroundings. His agenda here was to observe and not be seen—not a difficult goal by any means as his quarry was remarkably unobservant. The number of times Ghirahim had managed to watch him from a distance… but still, it wouldn't do to be cocky.

The boy who had brought him here (albeit unknowingly) was easily located, which gave Ghirahim an odd sense of relief. Link's presence at the edge of his senses, normally so strong and vibrant when he stood this close, now felt strangely diluted—a peculiarity that Ghirahim had noticed once or twice before and finally decided to investigate. The demon's curiosity was heightened by the peculiar position the sky child had arranged himself in. Bent over on one knee with his sword thrust into the stone as if it were soft soil and intricate floral patterns spiraling around him, he seemed entirely unconscious of his surroundings. Taking a few tentative steps forward, Ghirahim felt the beginnings of an itch across his skin that indicated divine protection. Belatedly, he realized how quiet the mountain air had become, with no monsters or other creatures whatsoever nearby. Whatever was happening here, there were forces at work that did not want it disturbed.

Still, Ghirahim was hardly your everyday Moblin. Confident now that the boy would not see him, Ghirahim walked across the bridge to where Link was slumped over, ignoring the uncomfortable stirring of the Goddess's power around him as it grew in intensity. He doubted he would be able to touch the boy, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to puzzle out Link's purpose in coming here. From the little that Ghirahim had managed to see, the sky child had been just as busy as he was, flitting from place to place on that overgrown bird of his. He had assumed that the boy and his sword were running around blindly, much like himself, but he wondered now if Link was privy to more information than he had initially guessed.

Which, of course, made it his _responsibility_ to keep an eye on Link and find out whether he knew anything worthwhile. The fact that Ghirahim rather enjoyed keeping an eye on him… well, that was just an added bonus, wasn't it?

Ghirahim stopped just short of the sky child when the uncomfortable buzz on his skin became almost too much to handle, placing a hand on his hip and looking down with unfeigned interest. This so-called "Hero of the Goddess", barely more than a child and a human at that, never ceased to intrigue him, even as he insisted on making himself a nuisance. Even now, with his head bowed forward in… sleep? Unconsciousness? What could be happening behind those closed eyes? Even with that, those familiar lines of defiance were etched vividly across his expression. As Ghirahim watched, a single shudder ran through the boy's body, and his lips curled apart in a scowl of desperate determination. The demon's tongue flicked out from between his own lips. How fascinating. And still, the child felt so far away. It made no sense. Link's body was right here… so where was his spirit? His mind?

The sound of chimes startled him out of his reverie, and a graceful blue figure twirled into existence to float beside the boy. Ghirahim took an involuntary step back before catching himself, transforming the movement as best he could into a casual flourish. He surveyed the new arrival with mild distaste. Although he knew her as Link's weapon and constant companion, he had only caught glimpses of her until now.

"Fi."

"Ghirahim." Her voice was surprisingly toneless. He would have expected the Goddess to imbue her servant with a little more warmth. "You should not be here."

"Is that so?" He tossed his hair, allowing a bland smile to arrange itself on his face. "And yet, here I am. Pity your Goddess never saw fit to grant you the power to stop me, hmm?"

"You should not be here," Fi repeated, her stern face unaltered. "I suggest you leave immediately."

"Suggestion noted," he said dryly. The sky child still showed no sign of noticing his presence. He had not intended to be drawn into confrontation today, but from his understanding, this creature was powerless to act without her master's hand guiding her—inferior, of course, to a weapon such as himself. Perhaps she could clear up this little mystery. "Before I leave, though, you simply must tell me: where has the hero's spirit gone? What is the nature of this place?"

"That is none of your concern. I suggest you leave immediately."

Ghirahim's eyelid twitched. It was hard to imagine that _this_ was the hero's chosen companion, though he supposed they did share a certain… obtuseness.

"You are in no position to deny my questions," he said irritably, gesturing towards the kneeling boy beside her with an elegant gloved hand. "Not with your _master_ so utterly vulnerable. I'll admit that I am still a bit cross with him, but I might allow him to stumble along for now if you'll indulge my… idle curiosity."

"My master is protected from your interference," Fi responded. "You cannot touch his physical form, and his spirit has gone where you cannot follow."

"For now," Ghirahim parried, lips curling. She was right, of course. The Goddess's essence on his skin grew more uncomfortable by the second. "But what of when he wakes?"

A desperate snarl erupted from the hero's lips, punctuating his words. The two of them turned to stare at him, Fi impassive, Ghirahim intrigued. Sweat streamed down Link's face as he panted, eyes still closed. His hands gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly that they shook.

"I have detected your presence nearby before," Fi said suddenly, and Ghirahim grinned to himself. If cool chimes could sound uncertain, they did now. "Multiple times. But never with the intent to do immediate harm." She hesitated, then added, "I do not sense such an intent in you now."

"Oh?" Ghirahim spread his arms wide, the picture of innocence. "You are correct, of course. I have only ever wished to observe. I had not even meant to make my presence known to the boy, though at that, I suppose, I have failed." It had never occurred to him that Link's companion would have powers similar to his own, though of course that seemed foolish in hindsight.

"I have never made your presence known to my master," Fi said, to Ghirahim's surprise. She didn't sound even remotely guilty. "As you have posed no immediate threat, I determined that knowledge of your surveillance would be detrimental to my master's well-being. Link's success in his quest is the entirety of my mission."

"How very… analytical of you," Ghirahim said, smirking. What a pity. The image of Link constantly looking over his shoulder in fear of Ghirahim's presence made an appealing picture. Perhaps he should make himself known to Link a little more often.

Fear touched the hero's face now of an enemy only he could see, and Ghirahim drank in the expression, wishing he himself could be the cause.

"Where is he now?" Ghirahim asked, honestly curious. He could almost hear the gears of her mind at work, choosing her words carefully. She would not tell him anything that might lead him to the spirit maiden, or endanger her master's quest… not on purpose, at least.

"His spirit fights in... a Silent Realm. It is a realm of spirit only he can reach."

"Does he?" Ghirahim considered this. He had never heard of its like, but it must be the work of the Goddess. That was the only explanation for all of this filthy… _divinity_. "Who does he fight? My master has no enemies for him there."

This time, Fi remained silent, and a delicious thought occurred to Ghirahim. A deep chuckle bubbled up from out of him, low and delighted.

"It is not my master who he fights! It is your _Goddess_! Ahhh…" Ghirahim shook his head, wiping an eye ostentatiously. "What amazing gratitude you show your chosen hero! Shall I have my creatures stand back and allow yours to finish the poor boy off?"

"The trials of the hero are necessary for his growth, but they will not harm him. His form remains safe in the physical realm."

Her flat voice and expression were starting to annoy him. How tiresome. All of his best taunts and jabs fell flat on her. Not like Link, who was all fire and defiance, so easy to poke and prod… what must it be like for him, to be constantly saddled with her dreary presence?

"I see," he said, a sarcastic bite creeping into his words. "Well, far be it from me to question the actions of a loving Goddess toward her devoted subjects. I'm sure it is only her perfect _wisdom_ that demands such pointless sacrifice from the one she calls hero."

"No man who would not sacrifice all that he has could ever have the power necessary to save the world." Perhaps he'd finally gotten a rise out of her. Fi's voice… passion was too strong a word to describe it, but it smoldered with cool fire. Barely. "What of your master, Ghirahim? You state your loyalty to him, yet I detect conflict in you. Will your master feel half so much for the acts you have done in his service? Will he value your sacrifice, should you succeed? I predict an 85% probability that he will not even notice."

The flame of Ghirahim's temper ignited suddenly, weeks of frustration hitting a boiling point, and white hot rage consumed him.

"There is no conflict within me! _None!_ " Ghirahim spat, stepping forward as his own dark energies wavered and writhed, clashing with the divine essence of the air around them. "When my master returns, he will wield me with a power befitting my blade! No measly amount of strength gained through _trials_ or _sacrifice_ could ever hope to compare. You think your hero is a man? He is a child compared to the forces of might surrounding him, forces that will sweep him away! The Goddess herself at the height of her power could not fully conquer my master! What hope has any mere mortal of defeating him? What hope has Link?" With a final flare of fury, his dark energy waned, and he was forced to step back once more to keep from falling to his knees. The strength of his rage left him panting.

Fi stared at him, unwavering, her voice reduced once more to cool chimes. "You have met my master, Ghirahim. If anyone has a chance, it is Link, if only because he has the courage to try."

All at once, the anger flooded out of him, and Ghirahim laughed. This argument was ludicrous. His master's victory was already assured. The Goddess was desperate, hiding in the past while she placed her final hope on a hopeless cause, but soon enough she and her hero would topple. It was a shame, in its way, though there was no helping it. The moment Link ceased his pointless striving, Ghirahim knew he would lose all interest in the boy… but still, a shame.

Ghirahim looked down at Link again, and blinked. The defiant lines had finally faded from his face, but what replaced it was too somber to be triumph. Around him, the air became less stifling, the divine protection starting to recede as whatever strange works were afoot wound steadily to their conclusion.

"He… failed?" Ghirahim asked, surprised, but Fi shook her head.

"He was victorious." There was no joy in the statement, of course. "He simply delays his return. In the Silent Realm, his spirit is not bound by the… physical limitations that plague him here. It is both a blessing and a curse, for to return to the physical realm, he must willingly accept those limitations once more." Fi's voice lowered. "It is maybe the greatest trial he has been set, and I do not know whether the Goddess intended it so or not."

Physical limitations? Ghirahim frowned, unwilling to admit to his own ignorance but vexed by the unspoken implication that this was something he should already be aware of. Little chance that Fi would elaborate on the child's weaknesses, at any rate. What physical limitations? Was being mortal really such a burden?

Link stirred, his face twisting with grief and… loss? Ghirahim was shocked to see a tear slip through his clenched eyes.

"My master will awaken soon. Unless you intend to confront him now, I suggest you leave." Fi stared at him, steady and emotionless. "Please."

Ghirahim left. But he did not go far.

Fi must have known that he lingered near, but he doubted that she'd be telling her master about him anytime soon. His mission to obtain information had been a sort of success, albeit a confusing one. The hero was obviously not as directionless as Ghirahim had assumed, but it was unclear whether these spiritual trials he faced would lead the child to the spirit maiden. Perhaps there was a clue in his location? If memory served, there was an ancient sanctuary in this volcano somewhere that certainly bore investigating.

For the moment, however, Ghirahim simply listened.

He had imagined the hero's screams before, many times. Fulfilling his promise of pain to the boy was Ghirahim's favorite fantasy whenever the search for the spirit maiden became too frustrating to bear. He had imagined screams of terror, yells of rage, and yes, he had even imagined the tears of pain and humiliation he would inevitably shed. He had never imagined the soft, broken-hearted sobs of loss and regret that echoed faintly over the mountain peak as the sun sank ever lower.

He stayed for a while, listening until Link finally called for his bird and took to the sky, thinking that perhaps the sound of it would cheer him up. It didn't.


	3. Chapter 3

Back to chronological order now. This chapter continues from the first one. I'll get that fixed eventually.

Buckle up, Link.

* * *

Link leaned forward on his Loftwing, patting its neck and urging it to go faster. Sensing its master's impatience, the bird obliged, tucking in its wings and diving forward so fast that Link's teeth rattled.

Leaving Faron Woods so he could begin his search for the Fire Dragon had taken longer than he'd expected. Right as he was about to take off, he'd come across a distraught Kikwi who had been so upset by the monsters and flooding and life in the forest that Link had come up with the bright idea of bringing the creature back with him to Skyloft. After all, Professor Owlan was always sighing over the lack of new plants to study in the sky, and Link had been meaning to bring him back a cutting of something for a while now. Kikwis were plants… in a way. He thought.

He'd forgotten that bringing the Kikwi back would involve Scrapper, along with all that Scrapper entailed. Noticing that "Master Shortpants" was in a hurry, the robot had taken twice as long bringing the Kikwi up as he should have, throwing jabs his way the whole time that wouldn't have needled him so much if he'd had more sleep. Both Owlan and Oolo the Kikwi had been ecstatic, if a bit bewildered by each other, but the whole affair had taken up his entire morning. By the time Link had finished his shopping at the bazaar, stocking up on potions and stumbling his way through an awkward conversation with Peatrice, it was early afternoon. That left him less than half a day to explore the volcano if he wanted to make it back before dark. Link was eager to avoid another night on the surface, especially after Ghirahim… after the night before.

At least he had remembered to pick up some stamina potion on his way out. The tart elixir had perked him for now, but there was a mountain of exhaustion waiting to catch up with him when his head hit the pillow tonight.

"We are approaching Eldin Volcano," Fi's voice said in his ear, and he snapped to attention, reigning in his Loftwing with a light touch. "Prepare to make your descent."

Unstrapping himself from the safety harness, Link checked to make sure his sailcloth was within easy reach, waiting for Fi's final signal before hurling himself off the Loftwing's back.

With the wind whipping his hair in freefall, Link couldn't hold back an exhilarated laugh. He had never been afraid of heights, though growing up blind on an island in the sky he arguably should have been. Climbing rocks and trees had earned him more than one broken bone as a boy, and his propensity for falling off the island had been so great that there were knights specifically tasked with watching him at all hours. When he'd finally been paired with his own Loftwing, the entire island had breathed a collective sigh of relief.

As Link fell further, passing the point where the cloud barrier had once been, warm air rose up to meet him, sulfurous and full of ash. Link coughed, his stomach spasming against the force of his fall, and pulled up his tunic to cover his mouth as best he could. He'd never known the volcano to be so active. Up here above the summit it was difficult to breathe, but he hoped the air would clear up near the surface.

Link counted slowly to ten before deploying his sailcloth, giving himself plenty of time to steer his descent. Everywhere on the surface was dangerous, he'd found, but this mountain in particular. Falling into a lava pit was the last thing he—

A strong gust of air pummeled him, hot to the point of scalding, and his entire body was jerked off its course. Link drew a sharp breath that he immediately regretted as hot ashy air stung his lungs, bringing tears to his eyes. Above the rush of air, he could hear another sound—a low, terrifying rumble emanating from the mountain itself that rose to a furious crescendo. He'd heard legends about this in Gaepora's tales of the surface, but could not have imagined their terrifying reality. The volcano below him was erupting.

Another wave of air hit him, and another, furious winds pelting him with heat and debris.

"Fi," he choked out, clinging to his sailcloth and praying that he could just make it to the surface safely. "How far—"

Something large struck his head, and Link was out. His grip loosened on the sailcloth, and he fell, still buffeted by small rocks and rushing air. Distantly, he heard Fi's urgent ringing, but the sound of it spiraled away into terrible rumbling and his own screams until there was nothing left but dark silence.

Hours later Link awoke, sightless eyes fluttering open, amazed that he wasn't dead.

Rough dirt scraped against his cheek as he shifted, a pained hiss escaping through clenched teeth. His skin radiated heat, tender and sore and covered in burns. Sharper pain pulsed wherever he'd struck rock on the way down, which in his estimation must have been… everywhere. Grunting, Link brought a hand to his head, wincing at his own light touch and fighting down a wave of nausea. Blood matted his hair where the blow that knocked him out cold had struck, already sticky and congealing. That would need cleaning to avoid infection. Wadding up his hat, which by some twist of fate had survived the fall with him, Link pressed it gingerly against the wound to soak up the remaining blood.

He was hurt, but alive, which was a miracle in itself. Who knew how far he'd fallen?

"Fi," he croaked, pausing to cough painfully. He didn't even recognize the rough sound of his own voice. His throat felt scarred from ash and heat. "Can't believe… we made it…"

No response. His heart thudded once, twice, three times, a hammer in his ears.

"…Fi?"

No response. Gritting his teeth, Link pushed himself up on his elbows, slipping a shaky hand toward his pouch to retrieve one of his newly-stocked vials of potion. It took a few moments of fumbling to realize that both pouch and potions were gone. With growing dread, Link searched frantically for any of his equipment, and found nothing but singed tunic.

Link heaved himself to his knees, feeling cautiously around for any fallen items. With luck, they had landed somewhere nearby. He found some dried up plants and scattered pots, all empty, but nothing that he recognized as his own. Crawling forward, still searching, Link's head thumped into something and he cried out in pain. Raising his hands to investigate, he found that he'd run headfirst into a crudely built wall curving in on itself—a circle, with him inside.

That didn't bode well.

Leaning heavily on the wall for support, he followed its curve, looking for an exit. Finally, his fingers found the end of the wall… and the beginning of bars. Heart sinking, he kept moving, shaking at the bars as he went to test their sturdiness. None of them budged an inch. He circled the whole place twice, just to be sure. This was a cell. A guarded cell, if the rough snorts of breath from outside were any indication. And he was trapped inside, injured, without potions or a weapon. Without Fi.

For the second time in as many days, he felt his world crumbling.

Stumbling towards the center of the cell, Link sat, taking long deep breaths to calm the rising terror. Yesterday ( _or had it been longer? How long had he been unconscious?_ ) he had faced the certainty of defeat and panicked, falling prey to his own fear. He had defeated himself before Ghirahim even had the chance. The fact that things had turned out well didn't change that. Link forced himself to confront the shame of yesterday, of how he must have looked in that tree—shaking, stuttering, blind, afraid—a sky child in truth. He couldn't afford to do the same thing here, not with Zelda and the world depending on him. As long as he was breathing, there was still hope.

Something burned on the back of his right hand as if in reaction to that thought, but with his whole body burning, he hardly noticed. Strength poured into him, and he nodded firmly. This could still be fixed. He wasn't dead yet.

Unfortunately, trapped as he was, all he could do was wait and hope.

 _Something_ caught Link's attention then. He felt more than heard the ground beneath him rumbling, and he froze, certain that the volcano was about to erupt once more. But no—the vibrations were too small, too focused. They grew louder, followed by the crumbling of dirt, and then—

"Ta-DAH! I'm here to save the day!"

Link's head whipped toward the source of the sound, sightless eyes widening in surprise. He was taken so off-guard, it took him a moment to recognize the voice.

"Heyyy! Long time no see, pal, for you more than me, eh?" The voice came closer, then stopped. "Huh? Come on, don't tell me ya forgot my ugly mug. It's me, Plats!"

"I never saw your ugly mug a day in my life and you know it," Link found himself responding in a rasp, so relieved that he couldn't hold back a painful laugh. He liked the Mogmas. None of them had stellar eyesight—he'd been mistaken for a Bokoblin before just from the color of his tunic—so to them, being blind was nothing that out of the ordinary. "It's good to not see you, Plats. But what about the guard?" Link added, his voice lowering.

"Oof, you don't sound too good." Link heard Plats rummaging around, and a juicy bulb was placed in is hands. Link recognized it as one of the water plants native to Eldin, and he immediately pierced the skin with his teeth and drank, ignoring the initial sting of the water hitting his throat. He was parched. "You don't look so good, either. What, you mean that creep outside?" Plats snorted. "None of them monsters can hear worth a rupee, the way they blast those horns of theirs all day long. Can't see in the dark much, either. They're all quakin' in their boots, catapultin' everything that moves and waitin' for the mountain to burst again. I think they'da scrammed by now if it weren't for you. You must be reeeeal important to someone."

"Maybe," Link mumbled, wiping his mouth and dropping the empty husk regretfully. He couldn't imagine why Ghirahim would allow him to leave the forest one day only to capture him on a volcano the next, but there was no other way to explain it. Maybe it was time to stop assuming he understood any of the demon lord's actions. "What are you doing here?"

"Who, me?" Link could hear the Mogma rubbing his mitts together greedily. "I just heard a rumor that some bad guys were gettin' together on this mountain, and everyone knows that when bad guys get together, they'll be fightin' over some loot! Heh heh heh…"

Link shook his head. Of course.

"But what about you, eh?" Plats said. "Don't you gotta take care of your own business first? Haven't ya noticed? They swiped all your stuff!"

"Yeah, I noticed," Link said, exasperated. "First thing I noticed, actually."

"Yep. They shook you down good, pal! You're gonna want to get your stuff back soon before they carry it all off… but I can get you started," he added impishly.

Link's brow furrowed as something light hit the ground in front of him. It couldn't be his sword, but maybe Plats had salvaged some of his potions, or…

"My Mogma Mitts!" Link exclaimed, feeling the familiar fabric gloves with blades attached. This might be something he could work with. "How did you get these?"

"I stole 'em!" Plats said proudly. "And as luck would have it, there's an old tunnel leading right out of this cell! Trust a creep not to notice a thing like that, eh?"

Link nodded, his excitement growing. He'd have a hard time finding the Mogmas' warren of tunnels, not without Fi to point them out, but at least he could escape this room.

"I don't know how to thank you," he said, but Plats just laughed.

"Don't worry about it. Just get your stuff back from those creeps, ya hear?" Link thought he heard the Mogma scratching himself. "What're ya doin' around here, anyway?"

"Well…" Link hesitated. He needed to get Fi back before anything else, but he still had another mission to complete, too. "I'm looking for the Fire Dragon. Any idea where I could find him?" If he could find the dragon, maybe he could help Link get his sword back. Not that any of it was essential except for Fi.

"A-a dragon?" Plats stammered, sounding surprised. "Uhh, yeah… I heard a rumor that a big dragon-god lives in this mountain, but I don't really go in for those fantasy stories, ya know?"

"Sure," Link sighed. He'd just have to find him the hard way.

"Listen, it's time for me to tunnel out, but I'll keep an eye on ya, alright? And be careful once ya get outside. Those creeps are crawlin' all over the place."

"Great." Link forced a smile. He'd deal with that obstacle when he came to it. "Thanks for everything, Plats. See you around."

"No you won't," Plats said, his voice already muffled by dirt.

Link was alone again, but having a course of action strengthened him, and he shoved aside his pain for later. He had a way to escape now, and even something resembling a plan: find the tunnel, escape through the tunnel, and then… improvise.

"Good plan," he muttered, searching for the tell-tale mound marking the tunnel's entrance and trying not to dwell on the fact that he still had to find his sword on an active volcano that was swarming with enemies (and hopefully, somewhere, a dragon).

The tunnel out was straight and easy to navigate, unlike some he'd been forced to explore. Sooner than he expected, the space above his head cleared and he was digging his way out into… well, the Goddess only knew.

Tugging off his mitts and slipping them in his belt, Link stood up, ears twitching from listening so hard. The air here was still and stale, and his tentative footsteps echoed ever so lightly. A few more cautious steps and the ground beneath his feet sloped downward, packed and worn by use—a path, unless he was wildly mistaken. Link followed the path to his right, picking his way carefully with ears still pricked to points. One direction seemed as good as another when he didn't know where he was. Unless Plats appeared to guide him further, all he could think to do was wander the mountain until he came close enough that Fi could speak to him—a task so incredibly futile, he wanted to laugh.

A warm breeze tickled his face, growing stronger, and he followed it, suppressing another cough as he emerged into what felt like open space. Here, the constant wind was hot and gritty, and stung whenever he blinked. The air stank of hot rock and sulfur. He stopped, tearing a piece of fabric from his fraying tunic and wrapping it around his eyes for protection. He would have liked to cover his nose and mouth, too, but he needed every available sense at his disposal. Somewhere out there, Bokoblins were keeping watch, though he couldn't hear them yet. Worse, he could just make out the telltale sound of low, steady bubbling. That meant lava, and he didn't have so much as a walking stick to check his path.

The weight of the task ahead hit him again, and he felt a wave of doubt. All it would take was one misplaced step to doom both him and Zelda. Maybe he should go back and wait in the cave. The Bokoblins had to clear out eventually… but who could say how long that would take? And what were the odds that they'd leave his stuff behind when they left? Besides, every moment that passed was another chance for the imprisoned form of Demise to break free of his pit again. Acting now might lead to his death, but inaction would be the death of them all.

Gritting his teeth, Link fell to his knees—easier to feel his path that way, with less chance of being seen—and started crawling forward. It wasn't dignified, but some things mattered more than dignity.

Link had only gone about fifty feet when a low chime rang in his ears. He stopped, certain he was hearing things. He couldn't be this lucky.

The note came again, still quiet but unmistakable this time, and hope flared up in him.

"…Fi?" he said, and after a moment's pause another note rang in confirmation, low enough that it must have been for his ears alone. "Where are you? Are you nearby?"

This time, two chimes rang. That had to mean no. Link deflated a little, but remained stubbornly hopeful. The fact that she could communicate at all was good news.

"Can you talk?" Two chimes. The sound was duller than he was used to, like steel compared to crystal. Wherever Fi was, she must have been barely able to reach him.

"But you can hear me, obviously." One chime.

Link considered this. It opened up another option, but he was reluctant to take it.

"Okay Fi, I'm safe for now, but I'm going to try to find you. If things go bad, you might need to call Scrapper and ask him to find help… but not yet." The robot himself would be a disaster, but if he could find Pipit or the other knights, they might be able to help. None of them had ever set foot on the surface, though, much less faced actual combat. "I don't want to drag anyone else into this."

Fi chimed back impatiently, a flurry of notes that sounded insistent, and he frowned, trying to interpret.

"Am I… missing something? You can't guide me to you if you can't see me—" He was cut off by a strong chime.

"You… you can see me?" One chime.

" _How?_ " he asked, though of course she couldn't tell him. The discordant tinkling of notes that answered him managed to sound irritated, though Link didn't think Fi was capable of the emotion. He was starting to realize how little he knew or understood of what Fi could do.

"Sorry, stupid question," he said. One chime responded, and he laughed softly.

"So… can you lead me to you?" A long pause followed, until Link started to worry that he'd lost her. Then… one chime. He let out a long, slow breath.

"Will I have to pass the guards?" One chime.

"And the lava." Not a question, but he still received a very emphatic chime.

"Okay, then." Nodding, Link stood up, tightening the cloth around his eyes and steeling himself for the task ahead which was growing more possible by the second. "Let's do this."

Traversing an active volcano with a guide who couldn't speak was complicated, to say the least. At the start, Link hummed out five different notes that Fi had been able to match, assigning a different direction to each: forward, backward, left, right, and stop. It was a brutally simple set of commands that left no room for subtleties like "you're coming up on a bridge", or "stairs ahead", or "I am leading you off a ledge." Fi did her best to indicate these things nonverbally, trilling in his ear to let him know that there was _something_ ahead that required extra caution. Bridges he crossed on hands and knees, not trusting his balance on such uneven footing, and stairways were taken with painstaking slowness. Each second burned like a physical assault, but he didn't dare go any faster.

As for the ledge, Fi had somehow neglected to warn him and he'd been moving a little too quickly, and the result was that he'd tumbled painfully down the short drop, too shallow in the end to do more than bruise him, but wildly certain in that moment that he was falling directly into lava, or a deep pit, or a Bokoblin's line of sight. The chimes that rang out after were almost certainly apologetic, but they sounded like laughter to Link's burning ears.

He could hear the crunching footsteps of the first guard they met even before Fi chimed repeatedly for him to stop. Licking his cracked lips, Link waited for further direction. He was so close, he could hear the beast's snuffling, and it seemed impossible that he wouldn't be caught. Sweat slicked down the back of his neck as he wondered suddenly whether the monster could find him by smell… but either he couldn't, or the sulfurous smoke masked his scent, because no alarm was raised. After a moment that stretched forever, he finally heard the guard's footsteps moving away.

 _Forward._ _Forward. Right. Stop! Stop. Stop. Forward._

Fi sang, her instructions coming like a simple, urgent melody, and Link danced in response, moving as nimbly as his aching limbs could manage. It was a routine they repeated time and time again, until Link wondered if his heart could stop from sheer anxiety. Best case scenario if they caught him was that they threw him back in his cell, and he had to do it all again. Worst case… Plats had said something about a catapult.

"Zelda's never going to believe this," Link panted later, wiping sweat off his face with a grimy hand as he rested against a stone outcropping, safe from view for now. Crossing the mountain wasn't physically exhausting in itself, but the injuries from his fall were beginning to catch up to him, and his nerves were taut. "She'll think I'm… making it up. To impress her." His laugh came out as a croak. His throat was dry again, the smoke harsh on his lungs. "I don't think I'll tell her… everything. She already feels… guilty enough… as it is."

Fi didn't respond, but Link didn't expect or need her to. He was mostly talking to distract himself.

Resting his head on his knees, he tried to picture Zelda's reaction if she could see him now. She'd always been the one pushing him past what others expected of him—pushing him off the island sometimes, to his constant dismay. Link wondered if he'd have made it this far if she hadn't always been there, pushing him. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing for her to feel guilty about, but he couldn't tell her that until she woke up. For that, he needed the Triforce, and to get _that_ … he had to stand up.

"Okay," Link sighed eventually, trudging to his feet. "Have to keep going. If Demise breaks out again… Groose can't force him back on his own. He needs me to… renew the seal." Still, Link didn't move right away. He was so tired.

In his exhaustion, it took him a minute to realize that something in the atmosphere had shifted. Link actually shivered, rubbing his arms and wondering worriedly if he was getting a fever. The wound on his head might be bad enough. The air wavered somehow, warping without heat. It felt…

The ground beneath him rumbled, and the feeling vanished abruptly. Fi's metallic chimes jangled in alarm as the source of the rumbling moved past him, but Link just smiled. He recognized the sound this time.

"Hey!" Link said as Plats popped up, shaking off the strangeness from before and grinning in relief. "Where have you been?"

"Hey yourself," Plats said. Something hit Link's shoulder, and he stooped down quickly to catch it. Another water plant. Link immediately hoped that Plats found all the treasure he was searching for and more. "Can't believe you've been walkin' around in the open like this. This place is crawlin' with thugs!"

"You're telling me," Link said after a long drink from the plant. He wanted so badly to pour some over his head, but he needed every drop. "I don't know the tunnels like you do. Can't risk being dumped in the middle of a group of creeps." He wondered if Fi could tell where the tunnels would go. He'd have to ask—they might be able to find a shortcut.

"Eh, guess I can't say nothin', can I?" Plats said, sounding impressed. "You've been doin' okay so far, haven't you? Good thing you ran into your friend."

Link choked, spluttering on the last of the fruit.

"My… friend?" he managed to say. How could Plats know Fi was leading him?

"Sure. When I first saw him I thought maybe that was a guy you wouldn't want around. He's kinda… creepy, ya know?" Plats shivered. "He's got a _vibe._ But you never put up a fuss about him, so I figure, hey, what do I know? He's steerin' ya through those monsters okay, anyway. Where'd he go? I coulda sworn I just saw him!"

"I don't know," Link said slowly, the strange warping he'd felt just moments before clicking into place with dreadful familiarity. "Listen, my… friend, does he have…" _Impossibly smooth skin that was hard, yet yielding? Hair that fell in a perfect curtain?_ _'Stunning features'?_ "…Diamonds?" he settled on weakly. "Anywhere on him?"

"Oh, he's got a thing for diamonds, alright. Got a nice sized one in his ear, too." His voice became greedy. "Look, I'm not asking for payment or anything, but if you're offering… well, I wouldn't say no, is all. That's all I'm sayin'."

His heart sank.

"Fi, did you know that Ghirahim was following me?" Link muttered under his breath. He couldn't see how she'd missed it when she'd been able to see everything else around him. He wasn't sure how _he_ _'d_ missed it. Ghirahim was tricky, to be sure, but he still made a chiming sound like Fi whenever he—

Link's thoughts came to a screeching halt. _A chiming sound_ _… like Fi._

"Fi," he said clearly this time, holding a hand up when Plats tried to interrupt in confusion. "If you're there, I need you to let me know right now."

There was no response.

Link breathed out slowly, trying not to vomit. He'd been an idiot. Fi had never been able to see him, or communicate. All this time, Ghirahim had been leading him around by the nose… and Link had followed blindly, like a lamb to the slaughter.


	4. Chapter 4

This could probably use another round of editing, but I really wanted this chapter out by Thanksgiving. Once this story's all written I'll go over everything again and tighten things up. Until then, enjoy.

* * *

Ghirahim scowled, fingers drumming against his arm as he wondered what Link and that filthy little creature could possibly be talking about. It galled that he'd been forced to retreat by a simple, dirt-dwelling _Mogma_ , but one did as one must. Link had actually greeted the thing with fondness, which he assuredly would not have done had he been able to see how appallingly ugly it was. It occurred to him that the Mogma might have seen him following the boy from a distance—an annoyance if so, but nothing he couldn't handle. Not a soul alive could interrupt his plans now, with every piece on the board moving as if he himself directed them. Even Link— _especially Link_ —was playing right into Ghirahim's hands.

It had not been his plan to revisit the child so soon after their last encounter. He intended to make an indelible impression on the boy, and only time could tend whatever seeds he might have planted. But when night fell and Link's presence remained on the surface… well, if the boy died now, it would be more than inconvenient. Tracking him down had been all too easy, and he found his curiosity rewarded with a delicious sight: battered and bleeding, bereft of all possessions, his hero was stumbling out of a cave into an apocalyptic nightmare he had no hope of crossing safely. He giggled again at the memory, relishing the cruel irony. The unfortunate boy had been caught in the eruption, an event that was almost certainly the Fire Dragon's work. How the Goddess's servants continued to complicate life for their hero!

It would never do, of course. Ghirahim was certain he had deduced Link's plan, and he must be allowed to succeed, even if it meant destroying Demise in the present. The thought of it pained him, enraged him—even now, discovering that Link had renewed his master's bonds _infuriated_ him so much that he'd almost given himself away—but it would all be worth it when he revived his master in the past, snatching victory from Link's unsuspecting fingers.

But how to reunite him with his sword? He dismissed out of hand the thought that Link might find it on his own. It still lay where it had fallen on the other side of the mountain, untouched by the Bokoblins but entirely out of reach. A snap of his fingers would retrieve it in seconds and the boy could be on his way, but if he interfered too openly Link might begin to suspect his motives. He considered ordering the Bokoblins to retreat—he couldn't imagine why they remained, aside from perhaps some misguided attempt to curry favor with him—but that still left the trouble of the volcano. A tricky tangle to figure out, albeit an amusing one.

As he stood considering his options, Link came to a stop, flinching at the ash and heat. Ghirahim clicked his tongue, exasperated. It was no use. He would have to retrieve the sword himself. Fi might even be convinced to hold her tongue on the matter, if she thought it was in her master's best interest. Link could return to his home in the surface, heal up, and this whole little incident would be behind them…

His thoughts trailed off as Link fell to his knees. At first he thought the hero overcome with despair—understandable, given the circumstances—but then he… _crawled._ Moving forward on all fours, Link pressed on, and Ghirahim realized that he actually intended to search for his sword. He watched in stunned silence, repulsed and amused and intrigued in that particular blend of emotions only Link could incite. This was past the point of courage, it was _idiocy_. It was suicide. It lacked dignity, it defied all common sense, it—

It gave Ghirahim an idea.

Had Link possessed even a child's understanding of magic it would never have worked, but such knowledge was lost to this age. As it was, convincing Link that his _trusted companion_ was guiding him had been laughably easy, and avoiding his notice equally so. Footsteps could be masked, and sounds faked. He would need to rest later—even this small drain of energy could add up over time—but as long as he avoided the Bokoblin's lights and nosy Mogmas, no creature on this mountain would ever know he was here. Link was oblivious to his presence, and Ghirahim was left to his fun.

And _oh,_ what fun it was.

The Mogma finally left, burrowing away and tearing Ghirahim from his thoughts. With a smirk, Ghirahim snapped, emerging to loom unseen over the boy. There was no helping the metallic chime of reality crashing in on his transported form, but for now it played into his ruse. Humans heard what they expected to, and were remarkably clever at explaining away inconsistencies on their own.

Link inclined his head, but said nothing. His tight, slumped shoulders spoke of weariness and tension, but that silly scrap of cloth protecting his eyes masked most of Link's expression. It was a constant effort not to tear the thing off—that blindfold was an unsettling reminder of everything Ghirahim had ever failed to notice about Link before. The idea of a damaged hero was so absurd that of course it had never occurred to him, even when all the signs were there. Surely, this hadn't been the Goddess's original plan… though then again, she could not have designed a companion more suited to aid Link than the one he had.

For a long moment they stood in silence, Link occasionally opening his mouth as if to say something before changing his mind. Finally, Ghirahim flicked a finger, allowing an impatiently inquisitive note to chime in Link's ear, and Link twitched.

"Sorry… Fi," he said finally, pausing to cough, and Ghirahim relaxed. He had not been seen after all. "You're right. We have to keep going."

A pity the sky child couldn't see his anticipatory grin.

Guiding Link through the Bokoblin's crude attempts at surveillance was a slow, painstaking process, but Ghirahim reveled in every second. What a delightful twist of fate that this ever-defiant child now danced at his command, obedient and responsive and utterly at his mercy. He could guide the boy wherever he wanted—into the lava, off a cliff, or straight in the path of his master's minions—and Link would follow and obey, never knowing the ultimate cause of his own demise. Not that he intended him to die that way, of course. Link would die eventually—a strangely grim thought, given how often the boy had been a nuisance to him—but it would be at his own hands, or else on his blade as wielded by his master, and Link would know him as the cause.

Still, even as he guided Link safely through the volcano, the _possibility_ left him quivering. If Link stumbled a little more often than necessary at his direction, gathering bruises that might otherwise have been avoided, Ghirahim still thought he exercised remarkable restraint… aside from perhaps the ledge. That had been an indulgence, though well worth it in his opinion. It was always a pleasure to hear Link scream.

The second half of their journey was different, though, his amusement tempered with frustration. The boy had finally gone quiet, rarely speaking unless prompted to and trudging forward in exhausted silence. Ghirahim almost missed the chatter, even if too much of it had been inane reminiscing about _Zelda_. He had hardly bothered to learn the spirit maiden's name, her identity as the Goddess superseding all else, but she seemed to be all Link thought about. It was as if he still didn't comprehend the true nature of his childhood friend. With grim satisfaction, Ghirahim thought that even if the boy somehow managed to win (ridiculous though the thought was) his return home would not be nearly as simple as he believed. Divinity could not be so seamlessly contained.

Link's injuries were also starting to take their toll, and the terrain grew more treacherous. The hero gained new cuts and bruises, ones that Ghirahim hadn't intended, although he bore it all in silence. Still, they were making good process, despite these minor injuries. The Bokoblins were no real threat when Ghirahim could easily kill any who seemed close to _glancing_ at Link, and their outposts had become fewer and farther between. Link might have even made it to the end mostly unscathed, were it not for the wildlife.

Link was catching his breath against the side of the mountain as Ghirahim kept silent watch. These breaks came often now—a sign of Link's exhaustion, as if he'd needed any. Neither noticed the slow seep of red slime gathering at Link's feet until it was too late. The fiery Chu Jelly emerged from the ground with a massive _schlump_ , trapping Link within its burning mass, and he screamed. Jumping and shaking frantically, Link eventually managed to break away, but not before blistering burns had erupted painfully across most of his skin. He didn't even notice as Ghirahim quickly disposed of the thing with three well-placed daggers. His breathing came in short, pained gasps that would have brought the demon more pleasure had he not been faced with the frustrating realization that, with the sword's resting place almost in sight, Link still might not make it there in his condition.

"Are we… almost there?" Link panted finally, the first words he'd said that even approached a complaint, and Ghirahim signaled the affirmative. Sweat dripped down Link's forehead into his blindfold, and he wondered what hid in those unseen eyes. Ghirahim wanted to see the pain there, and the fear. He wanted to know Link's mind.

"…Which way?"

Link stumbled more than walked now, and Ghirahim abandoned any pretense of sneaking around Bokoblins, disposing of the beasts with silent daggers that the boy never saw. Twice, a Chu Jelly tried to sneak up on Link as before, but Ghirahim was not the type to be fooled twice. Chiming urgently for the boy to move, he waited for them to form before striking them down, grinning maliciously as they writhed and dissolved. It was hard to see the sky through the veil of smoke, but he thought it was almost dawn by the time they finally found the cave that fell the sword—and the final obstacle in their way.

Ghirahim signaled Link to halt, weighing their options. Winding around the cave's entrance was a shallow crack in the earth, not quite deep enough to be deadly were it not for the stream of lava running sluggishly along the bottom. Their saving grace was that it was narrow. Link could probably clear it with a jump… if he were in any condition for such things. If Ghirahim could even communicate what needed to be done.

"What's wrong?" Link asked when he remained silent. Even slumped forward in weary pain, his ears twitched at every noise.

Ghirahim scowled, irritated at how needlessly complicated this situation was and ready for it to be over. He was not used to being silent for so long, and did not at all enjoy the experience. At last, he settled on a single note that fell in pitch, imitating the terrain in front of them. Link frowned in confusion, and he tried again. _Forward forward forward forward_ _… falling_.

"A… drop?" Link guessed, and Ghirahim wiggled his fingers triumphantly to chime _yes_. "Can it be crossed?" _Yes._ "Is there a bridge?" _No_. "Can I climb down?" _NO._ "Can I… jump?"

Ghirahim hesitated. _…Yes._

"You want me to jump." His voice was flat, but shaking with… exhaustion? Anger? He'd clenched his fists—almost certainly anger. "You're sure there's… no other way?"

Ghirahim didn't respond, a slow smile creeping across his face despite the situation. Link had been almost unnervingly calm until now, but even he must have a breaking point. Inconvenient if he'd reached it now, after all that sneaking about, but Ghirahim was certainly here for the show.

"Okay." Link blew out forcefully, rubbing his hands in agitation. "Okay, fine. I'm guessing if I don't make this jump, I'm dead? No, don't answer. Just position me. I need to take a running start."

Eying the distance across the chasm, Ghirahim directed Link so that he had plenty of space to gain momentum. If anything, the anger actually seemed to strengthen him—his stride was steadier than Ghirahim had seen it all night.

"You know the drill. Signal once three seconds before the jump, and again when it's time to jump. Like we always do," he added, laughing bitterly. Then, with a shake of his head he was off, running towards the chasm.

Ghirahim signaled him perfectly, and Link reacted as if he'd done this dozens of times before (which Ghirahim supposed he had). He sailed over the chasm, landing in a smooth roll despite his injuries. No part of the maneuver could have been planned or executed with more precision, and Ghirahim exulted inwardly at his success even as a reluctant grin spread across Link's face. They'd practically made it.

Then, with a rumbling crack, the edge of the cliff collapsed.

Time stopped. Stunned, Link grabbed at the falling rocks as they crumbled around him, lunging desperately for something to hold on to. Nothing held. In a motion both slow and impossibly fast, Link fell, opening his mouth to scream.

" _Ghirahim!"_

He reacted without thought. In less than a human's heartbeat he was leaning over the ledge, grasping Link's arm moments before it fell out of reach, the blindfold finally slipping from his eyes. The heat of the lava enveloped them like an embrace. Link dangled there, staring blindly up at him in anger, fear, and pure defiance, and Ghirahim laughed out loud.

"You knew," Ghirahim said, amusement warring with outrage in his mind. Oh, he should have been _furious_ to have played the fool for so long… but on the other hand, it meant that Link had followed him willingly, which was so much better.

Link glared. "And you let me fall off that ledge on purpose."

"I'm saving you from _this_ ledge, though." Ghirahim snapped and the two of them transported, Link collapsing to the ground while Ghirahim stood surveying him, both a safe distance from the cliff. "I'd think that makes us even, don't you?"

" _Why?_ _"_ Link struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth and turning to face the demon. "If you could have just…" he snapped his own fingers in demonstration, "…all this time, then why all this? Why pretend? Why even help in the first place?"

"I'm not sure you have any room to complain, given the alternative." Ghirahim spoke teasingly, though his mind raced. All that subterfuge for nothing… but this could still be turned to his advantage. He would have to play this _oh_ so carefully to keep Link in the dark. If he pushed him in just the right way, fueled that confusion, unnerved and unhinged the boy enough, then maybe this could still be salvaged. Fortunately, getting under Link's skin was his specialty. "But if you'd rather, I can leave you to find your sword on your own. Good bye, sky child." He snapped as if leaving, and Link's eyes widened.

"Wait!"

Ghirahim laughed, and Link growled under his breath. Bloody, bruised, and burned, Link had to know that the first enemy he came across would likely kill him. Not that anything stood between him and the sword now—they were a mere minute's walk from the cave—but he didn't need to know that yet.

"So you are… leading me to my sword?" he asked warily.

"If you doubted me, why did you follow?"

Link laughed, a rough sound without humor. All of his exhaustion seemed to settle on him at once. "What choice do you think I had? I can't just… _snap_ myself anywhere I want. I can't see. I have no sword. Another day on this mountain and I'll probably be dead. All I could do was follow your lead, and hope that whatever you had planned for me wouldn't kill me faster."

"A roundabout way of thanking me, but you're welcome." He grinned to himself, awaiting the explosion. "Now—"

"Thanking you?" he spat, his temper ignited once more. How terribly predictable. "You think—after everything—you think you can do anything you want to me, lead me, push me, hurt me—" even in the warm light, Link's red cheeks somehow burned redder—"touch me… and I'm supposed to take it all and thank you because I'm not dead? Or do you think I'll hold back in the end because you helped me? You said yourself that there can't be any mercy between us, so why did you have to start? All you've done is given me a debt that I can't meet!"

Ghirahim could remember a time when Link had barely been able to stutter in his presence. It had been one of the boy's more endearing qualities—Ghirahim always loved an attentive audience. Now it was like a dam had burst, and words were pouring out.

"Nothing's changed between us. You know that, right?" It was almost as though he were trying to convince himself. "This is too important. Zelda—"

"That's enough" Ghirahim said, annoyed. In an instant he was behind Link, one hand wrapped around his mouth to silence him, the other digging into his shoulder. Link grunted, gritting his teeth against his hand, but wisely refrained from biting down—the skin that could hold back the force of a sword would break those fragile teeth. "I've heard quite enough about your adorable friend for one day. You think you owe me?" Link actually sounded pained over it, ridiculous though it was. He had no way of knowing how self-serving Ghirahim's _mercy_ really was, but if this supposed debt weighed on his conscience, so much the better. "Well, there's more than one way to repay a debt. You might think of something that surprises us both."

He'd been forced to keep his distance all night to keep Link unaware of his presence, but now he could feel every tremor of those exhausted muscles. A slow trickle of blood ran along the line of Link's jaw, and Ghirahim's tongue flicked out almost of its own accord, tracing it up to its source. Link shuddered in a most satisfactory manner, straining to move his head.

"You want to know why I do what I do? Well, boredom happens to the best of us. Not all of my actions relate to some scheme. Then again, I might have plans for your death that go beyond this mountain. Or perhaps…" He moved the hand from Link's mouth to caress the path his tongue had traced. "…I've simply grown to enjoy your company, Link." He blew lightly on Link's ear, and was rewarded with another shiver.

"You… I…"

"Now _there_ _'s_ the sky child I know and love," Ghirahim murmured, and Link's eyes blazed.

"Stop it!" Breaking free, Link whirled to face him with a clenched fist he saw coming from miles away. Ghirahim caught it, and the one after that, stretching his fists apart until they were nose to nose with each other.

"You want me to stop hurting you? To stop _touching_ you?" he asked. Link spat in his face, and Ghirahim hissed. " _Then stop me._ "

A kick to Link's abdomen sent him flying back with a breathless gasp. Before he could hit the ground, he had dissolved in a flurry of diamonds that carried him away, taking him out of Ghirahim's presence and reuniting him with his precious sword. He would survive, and it was less than he deserved. With more calm than he felt, Ghirahim wiped his face. _Ingrateful brat._

Still, the night had gone well, if not in the way he'd expected. Granted, he'd expended a lot of pointless effort, but the perks had been more than worth the trouble. Link was angry, confused, and still none the wiser about Ghirahim's schemes. If anything, he'd cemented his work from the night before. After tonight, Link would never stand comfortably on the surface again.

Even better, he thought as he transported away from the mountain, leaving it and its occupants for good—no matter what passed between them in the future, or how much he said he hated him, Link would always have to remember that when the cliff had fallen and his life had been in danger, he had called out Ghirahim's name.


	5. Chapter 5

I take yo canon, I break yo canon.

The Silent Realms were terrifying, but by the fourth time they were also pretty repetitive. This is my answer to that.

* * *

With the last note of the Song of the Hero still thrumming in the air, Link lowered his harp and slipped it carefully back in its pouch. In the same smooth motion, he placed both hands on the hilt of his sword, drawing it out with the soft whisper of metal on leather. He felt honed, sharp and ready like the weapon he carried. In the back of his mind a battle raged, eagerness warring with trepidation in a dizzying spiral that had begun the moment he suspected where this final trial might take place, but he let none of it show on the outside. This couldn't affect him, not the way it had the last time he'd visited the Silent Realm. No, he was strong enough to face this trial, even now. Even here.

He had no way of knowing if his face gave away the lie. He felt numb.

"Before you on the ground is a mark." Fi spoke, and Link forced himself to focus on her words. "Thrust your sword into the center of the mark and open the way to the final Silent Realm."

Nodding, Link set the point of his sword on the ground in front of him, then hesitated. A light breeze ruffled his hair, thin and cool and smelling of home. The air on the surface was heavier than here, and always spoke of its surroundings, whether the salty damp of ocean wind or the pervasive smell of moss and dirt that permeated the forest. In Skyloft, every scent was a light caress, just a fleeting touch on his senses—old stone one moment, freshly-cut grass the next, and always, wafting from somewhere in the distance, the spicy aroma of pumpkin soup.

The Silent Realms smelled like nothing.

According to Fi, the Realms were mere echoes of reality, imperfect copies of the vibrant world the Goddesses had created. Sounds were wrong there, as well, his footfalls on the ground soft and wavering even when they should have sounded firm. As for the… colors… Link had no frame of reference. He couldn't have said whether they differed from the real world or not, except that even to his inexperienced eyes they looked ethereal and soft, as if the world might fade away at any second. As long as the Guardians slept, at least. Once they awoke, both sound and sight became jarringly loud and discordant, though somehow no less otherwordly and strange. He wanted to see his home so badly it ached, but how close could this pale imitation possibly come? And did he want to see peaceful Skyloft as the setting of another disquieting trial?

Fi chimed, a gentle reminder, and Link berated himself for getting caught in this line of thought once more. It didn't matter what he wanted. This was his trial and he would face it, just like all the others.

With a grunt, he thrust his sword into the ground. It entered smoothly, though Link knew the surface had been hard cobblestone only moments before, and his breath caught as the world became light. He felt the now familiar sensation of his spirit rising… rising…

He opened his eyes, and saw.

Link had thought he was ready. He'd done this before, _seen_ three times before. Now, as tears sprang to his eyes (which he wiped away quickly because he wanted to _see_ ), he realized this was something he could never have prepared for.

Turbulent clouds pushed each other across an impossibly vast sky, though he felt no wind. A soft light in a color he couldn't name touched everything in sight, immersing the world in a unifying glow that came from everywhere and nowhere at once. The tightly packed stones of the plaza he had played on as a child spread out before him, worn by age but clean and well cared for, and beyond that… beyond the well-beaten paths and the proud pennants, and the winding stairs carved into the island itself, he could just see the roofs of buildings peeking out. It was familiar and strange, and achingly beautiful. Somewhere among those tiny little houses was the academy he had grown up in, chasing Zelda through the hallways, sneaking into lectures and pestering the older students into teaching him everything they could about becoming a knight. His home.

Except that this was more than just his home now. It was also a trial. Hovering silently around him were masked apparitions that did not belong in this quiet little town, grim and unknowable in their stillness. Floating specters lit the sky with their balls of light as they deliberately went about their patrols, as mysterious as they were threatening. Even as he took it all in, a shimmering ball of light tore away from his chest, transforming with a flash into something small and delicate—a pale, thin flower. His spirit vessel. Catching it in cupped hands, Link tucked the flower carefully inside his tunic. It might have been only a representation of his spirit, but he still felt instinctively that it should be protected.

"When you have filled the Spirit Vessel once more, you shall finally be recognized as the true hero of legend." Fi's words echoed around him, lighting a deep unease in his heart. What did he have left to prove? Was there still some small possibility that he wasn't the chosen hero? "Only then will you be shown the door that will lead you to the Triforce. Master…" Fi hesitated. "This will be different from previous trials. You have been presented with obstacles to test your power, puzzles to measure your wisdom, and ordeals to prove your courage. You will find these here, as well. However, this trial is built from your very heart. Your worthiness to hold the Triforce will be proved here, along with the worthiness of your heart's greatest wish. Do not allow past success to make you complacent."

Link almost laughed. Complacent? In a Silent Realm?

"I understand," he said, shifting on his feet and missing the comforting familiarity of his sword. At least his wish would be judged worthy. What could be more pure than ridding the world of Demise's evil forever?

"Very well. I await your return in the outside world. Master… you will do well." With those words, her presence faded, and Link knew he was alone.

Still, he delayed. Turning in a slow circle, Link drank in the sight of his home. Behind him was the wooden platform he'd taken at a running leap so many times, and where Zelda had pushed him off almost as often. And there above him was the light tower, soaring further into the sky than he could have imagined, though he'd always known when he scaled it that he was climbing dangerously high. And off in the distance, barely visible but rising over even the light tower, stood the statue of the Goddess, stone face serene. He took it all in, pressing it desperately in his memory to keep with him when the world inevitably returned to darkness. He knew from experience that stepping beyond the bounds of the spiraling seal would begin the trial, awakening the Guardians' wrath until he claimed his first tear, and then there would be no time for savoring while he searched for the next. He wanted this to stretch a moment longer, always a moment longer… but there was no avoiding his task forever.

With a deep sigh, he turned, planning his first move. A tear sparkled nearby within sprinting distance, but with the Guardians behind it poised to attack, he'd have to run fast. Once he reached the first tear, he could climb the light tower for a better view of the others.

Bracing himself, Link stepped outside the circle, and the world awoke. The strangely serene glow gave way to something hostile and hot, and ominous life shone in the Guardians' eyes as their heads and weapons raised, focusing on Link. He ran, ignoring the urgent thrumming and discordant clanks that sent his heart pounding. This place was like a nightmare, designed to draw out fear, and the only way to beat it was to push through. The nearest Guardian met him as he arrived, raising his scything sword as Link reached for the tear, and—

 _A dark stone chamber surrounded him. Link whirled in surprise, looking for either tear or Guardian, but both had vanished from sight—or rather, Link realized,_ _ **he**_ _had. Before him were steps leading up to a raised dais, above which a strange, reflective stone hung unsupported. It all felt more solid than the realm he_ _'d just left, less like it could fade at any moment. Had he been pulled from the Silent Realm somehow? Then why could he still see?_

 _He ascended the steps slowly, head turning in case something unfriendly inhabited this chamber, but he found his gaze drawn continually back to the stone. It was big, larger than him, and beginning to pulse with a steady glow. Link squinted, trying to see inside even as the light grew brighter. He almost thought he could make out a figure—_

 _Without warning, the stone exploded with a final blaze of light, and Link threw up a hand to shield himself. Gleaming rubble scattered around him, sparkling like tiny jewels, but he barely noticed. There_ _ **was**_ _somebody trapped in there, a woman who was now free. As the radiance surrounding her form faded, he started to make out her_ _features—light, shimmering hair that cascaded down her back, delicately pointed ears, fair skin, and a simple white dress flowing gently as if in a breeze. Link stared, mouth agape. He'd never seen another person before, but he thought she must be beautiful._

 _Then she opened her eyes, and they shone with a divine warmth that was beyond human. She smiled._

" _Hey there… sleepyhead…"_

The scene vanished, and Link staggered, barely noticing as the Tear became a spark that flitted around, sinking into the flower tucked against his chest and returning the world to its still tranquility. The Guardian had vanished, transported back to its silent sentinel. He _knew_ that voice, though he hadn't heard it in too long.

"Zelda?" he whispered. There was no answer. The Silent Realm shimmered around him once more, quiet and sinister, and time was counting down. There were still tears to collect. Shaking his head, he ran to the light tower where and started to climb, still trying to make sense of what he'd seen. Unless something had changed, Zelda was still sealed away in the Temple—sealed, he was suddenly sure, in a room and stone exactly like the one he had seen. Was she somehow free? Or was this just a vision of sorts, of things that might someday be?

One of the Watchers circled the level above, but he avoided its lantern easily, climbing rung after rung until he'd made it to the top. From here, he had a breathtaking view of all of Skyloft, which diverted his attention momentarily. It was a small town, especially compared to the vastness of the world below, but there was something comforting about its steady, rustic presence. Scattered below were twinkling tears, easy to pick out in the stillness. Even better, he realized, a tear hung suspended in the tower's center, right in front of a motionless Guardian. Shying away from the hulking masked figure—he knew it would stay motionless unless he delayed for too long or set off a Watcher's cry, but they still made him uneasy—Link reached a hand out for the tear.

 _Tall trees surrounded him, strong and proud as if they_ _'d been growing for centuries. He recognized this place as Faron Woods, though the light was not so cool and peculiar as he remembered from the Silent Realm. Warm sun trickled through leaves—_ _ **green**_ _leaves, he remembered having learned once, green like his tunic, green like the grass—painting mottled patterns on the earth below, and floating motes in the air caught that sun and spun its light hypnotically._

 _A head rested on his shoulder, and he realized with a start that he wasn_ _'t alone. It was the girl from before—_ _ **Zelda? Could it be?**_ _—staring up at him with those warm, brilliant eyes._

 _ **Blue**_ _, he thought, unthinkingly putting an arm around her. She had told him once that both of their eyes were blue. Surely his own eyes weren_ _'t_ _ **this**_ _blue. He_ _'d never thought to ask what color her hair was._

" _Where are we?" he asked, surrounded by beauty but unable to look away from those eyes. There was so much else he needed to know, but that would do for a start._

" _On the surface, silly," she laughed, squeezing him back before ducking away, running down the path in front of them. "Follow me!" She'd changed from that dress into a knight's uniform like his own, more suitable for exploring a dense forest. He forgot sometimes that she'd been training to be a knight as well._

 _Running after her, Link marveled at how bright and lush the forest was. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and growth, and curiously carried hints of wood smoke. Mushrooms gathered like glowing gems at the base of enormous trees, and small birds chirped and flitted away as they ran past. One of the birds was blue._

 _Finally, Zelda stopped at a clearing, and Link realized they were standing in front of a small group of cottages, with the framework for others under construction. Smoke curled comfortably out of chimneys, and he caught the mouthwatering smell of food roasting in ovens. There were_ _ **people**_ _on the surface, chatting in small groups, chopping at wooden logs, and leaning over plans in excited discussion._

" _With Demise's evil gone for good, the surface is safe to live on again," Zelda explained as Link stared at the scene in front of them. "Some people still prefer the sky, of course, but most of the younger folk have chosen to settle here. We're turning it into a home, Link."_

" _Is this… this can't be real," Link said wonderingly. With the trees cleared away, he could finally see the sky—a perfect, crystalline blue, just like he'd always been told._

" _It can be," Zelda said, slim hand wrapping around his own. "Once you get the Triforce, of course. You just need to make the right wish."_

The tear dissolved into liquid light, joining its partner in the spirit vessel. Link half raised his hand, a sound of loss escaping him. What else would he possibly wish for? He wanted that future! Shaking his head, Link chose his next tear and set off with excited determination. Only now that he'd seen the true vividness of the world did he understand what a pale reflection this place really was.

The third tear hovered near the bazaar, across a walkway guarded by a Watcher. The intricate weaving of the rugs in the windows caught his eye—the world had more details and patterns to it than he ever could have known—but the shining tear and the possibilities it held drew him back. With barely contained impatience, Link waited for the Watcher to pass before sprinting forward, grabbing the blue light with eager hands.

 _Skyloft rose up around him, but this was Skyloft as it was meant to be—colorful, cozy, and bustling with life. A group of women holding laundry baskets passed him by, chatting and laughing together, and a small boy dodged around his ankles in pursuit of a shiny black beetle. A familiar cry drew Link's gaze up, and his throat tightened as an enormous Loftwing flapped its wings above, soaring into the sky. Running along underneath it, Link came to the edge of a wooden pier and stopped, breath catching at the sight. He_ _'d always heard that a layer of clouds lay draped beneath the islands like a blanket, blocking any view of the land below, but nothing like that existed now. The full extent of the surface extended far beneath him, trees and rivers and streams melding into rocks and mountains, with the desert barely visible in the distance. In the middle of it all, nestled in a steadily growing clearing, a proud village had advanced far beyond the modest group of cottages he'd seen before. Houses, shops, farms, and the foundation for something bigger dotted the landscape, all built up in a matter of minutes to Link's eyes, though it must have taken years of work. His heart swelled with pride at the sight. If this was the result of everything he'd been put through, it was all worth it._

 _Footsteps behind him made him smile, and he half turned, though he couldn_ _'t quite tear his eyes away from the scene below. Then a familiar laugh froze the blood in Link's body, growing in volume before cutting off suddenly._

" _Beautiful, isn't it?" the same voice whispered in his ear as a pair of hands gripped his shoulders, holding him in place. Struggling, Link looked sideways at the hands that held him. They were so dark they must be black. "A perfect future, with the defeat of my master. You've certainly paved the way for an industrious little society. You should be proud! But it is not your future… or have you forgotten?" The colorful world around him faded, became darker, disappeared, and Link gripped his eyes in silent protest as if doing so could keep it all from slipping away. "This is all you will ever see of your future."_

 _Those gripping hands pushed him over the edge, and he fell with a scream, whistling for a bird that didn_ _'t come, plummeting towards a land he could no longer see…_

Link gasped as the third tear swirled around him, joining the others. Relief swelled as he saw he had his sight back, even if he was back in the muted world of the Silent Realm. What was _Ghirahim_ doing there? It couldn't really be him, any more than it could really be Zelda in those visions, but why him at all? A pang of sadness hit him as he realized that Ghirahim, or whoever it was, was right—Link would never see that world again. But as long as it happened and the world was at peace, did it matter whether Link bore witness or not?

He still had a trial to complete, and the spirit vessel was less than half full. Still, he was grimly apprehensive as he rounded the bazaar, spotting the telltale sparkle of a tear in the scaffolding below. Lowering himself carefully onto a slim wooden plank, Link inched out, grabbing a beam for support as he leaned forward. Straining, Link reached, his fingers barely brushing the tear.

 _The air around him was oppressively hot, and smelled of sulfur. Grimacing in recognition, Link looked up to find the sky cloaked in dark smoke and ash. The mountain_ _'s peak towered over him, and falling from the summit in slender streams that gathered in pools at its rocky base was liquid light—lava, he assumed—thick and hot and dangerous. He surveyed the treacherous landscape with awe and some amount of dismay. How had he ever managed to cross this dismal wasteland alive? Healing from that disastrous trip to the volcano had taken two tormenting days of pain and frustration, with him worrying all the while about Groose and Zelda and the barely-imprisoned beast that threatened the unsuspecting world. If he never returned to this mountain, he would die a happy—and likely older—man._

" _Can you imagine?" Link looked up to find what could only be the demon lord Ghirahim surveying him from a cliff above, arms folded and head quirked in clear amusement. "I stood—" he snapped his fingers, appearing mere feet away from Link in a cloud of cascading diamonds, "—_ _ **this**_ _close to you, followed you for hours, directed your every move_ _… and yet, were it not for that interfering Mogma, you would never have even known it. Remarkably unobservant of you, don't you think? But then, you were dealt a rather cruel hand, given the task you were born to fulfill."_

 _Scowling, Link looked away, if only because he didn_ _'t want to give even this fake Ghirahim the satisfaction of seeing him stare. Everything about the demon was sharp, from the cut of his hair to the points of the diamonds that adorned his… everything. Even the voluminous mantle he wore ended in sharp points, richly dyed in a color he couldn't name._

" _It's red, my dear child," Ghirahim said with a roll of his visible eye, and Link started at hearing his thoughts addressed so directly. "Crimson, if you want to be technical, but I doubt your unseasoned eyes can tell the difference. Crimson like the thread of fate you tie like a noose around your own neck."_

" _What do you mean?" he asked, backing away slowly. Ghirahim wasn't visibly armed, but that could change at any second, and Link didn't know if these visions could harm him or not. Smirking, Ghirahim matched his retreat step for step._

" _What I_ _ **mean**_ _, boy, is that you run headfirst into a future that offers you nothing. You offer your life on the line, again and again and again, and the payment you accept in return is that other people will be happy?_ _" Link's back hit the wall, and Ghirahim's grin deepened as he advanced ever closer. "Even for a hero like yourself, it's almost too selfless to be believed. One would think that working for the Goddess would come with a few perks, hmm?"_

" _I am the way I am," Link said grimly, neck craning to meet Ghirahim's dark eyes with a glare. "Not even Zelda can change it. Why waste time worrying about what can't be fixed?"_

" _Why indeed?" he murmured, placing his hands to either side of Link's head. Their faces were inches away now, and Link could smell the depths of a forge on his breath. "But forget about Zelda, if only for a moment. Maybe this time it's about what you want… or what you_ _ **wish**_ _."_

Link blanched. Only his death grip on the scaffolding kept him from plummeting as the fourth tear sank into the spirit vessel. He pulled himself up with watery limbs, trying to ignore the crushing realization that beat at him like a hammer. His denial before had been so absolute that he'd even managed to fool himself, but now it was out in the open, impossible to ignore. There _was_ a second wish, one that rivaled even his wish to defeat Demise, one that shamed him to the depths of his soul.

He wanted to see. Goddesses above, he wanted to see.

Link ran mindlessly as this new war waged within. Zelda had tasked him with retrieving the Triforce in order to defeat Demise. It wasn't his to use on a whim. If anything, he'd already been rewarded for his quest beyond his wildest imaginations. After all, if he hadn't completed these trials, he would never have seen Zelda, or Skyloft, or the surface, or any of the bright visions of the future he'd been given. But what if it wasn't even a choice? What if he took hold of the Triforce and it answered whichever wish was strongest? Link assailed this new desire mercilessly, beating it until it was just a whisper in his mind, but still it remained, whispering.

Without noticing, his feet had carried him to the Sparring Hall, and he smiled grimly when he saw the tear shining above him in midair, just out of reach. This was the perfect place to fight this temptation away for good. Working in spurts to avoid the circling Watcher, Link pulled at a crate nearby until he was beneath the tear, then climbed atop it and clenched the light in his fist.

 _A sword flashed for Link_ _'s face and he reacted on instinct, only realizing he held a shield when Ghirahim's rapier bounced harmlessly away. He had only a moment to marvel at the fact that he was armed with a sword as well—wasn't he supposed to be defenseless?—before Ghirahim attacked again, and he was forced to defend._

 _They fought in silence for many minutes, the clash of sword on shield the only conversation between them. The demon had dispensed with the bulky cloak, clad only in the strange pale garment that clung tightly to his muscled frame. At first Link felt vulnerable without Fi there for guidance_ _, but he found to his growing satisfaction that he didn't need it here. Everything Fi had ever had to indicate to him through subtle vibrations or chimes or her cool monotonous voice, he could now determine with a mere glance. Eventually, he even grew confident enough in his abilities to go on the offense. Snaking his sword behind Ghirahim's—experience had taught that the demon was especially skilled in parrying a misplaced strike with brute force—Link managed a scraping blow to Ghirahim's side that sparked a flurry of diamonds. Eyes widening, Ghirahim snapped his fingers, disappearing, and Link sprinted forward. He'd faced this trick before. Ghirahim landed from the ceiling mere inches behind him, sword driving into the ground, and Link rounded on him before he could pull free, landing a flurry of blows that sent more diamonds flying. Wrenching the sword up at last, Ghirahim skipped backwards… and smiled._

" _Feels good, doesn't it?" he purred, lunging forward once more, and Link caught the blow on his shield._

" _What does?" he grunted. The last thing he wanted was to engage the demon in conversation, but if it managed to distract his opponent it would be worth it._

" _Fighting under your own power." A line of daggers appeared before Ghirahim with a snap, and went shooting towards Link. With a precise arc of his sword, Link sent them flying back, and Ghirahim grunted as they met their mark. "No voices or intermediaries in the way. Just you and me, and our skill with the sword."_

 _It did feel good, but Link refused to admit it. Ghirahim took a bracing step back, and was suddenly barreling down on Link, moving impossibly fast, sword raised for an attack. Link waited for just the right moment before raising his shield to meet the blow, pushing forward and knocking Ghirahim off balance with the force of his own attack. He managed to land several hits before Ghirahim was able to retreat, stumbling back warily._

 _Link_ _'s memories of his previous battles with Ghirahim were of nicks and scrapes and bare escapes, and blows that were only half a second from missing. Fi did the best she could guide his attacks and Link's own honed senses and nimble reflexes made up the rest, but this was almost easy. He'd never felt so sure of himself with a sword, and to feel that way against Ghirahim of all people… it was intoxicating._

" _It would be worth it, wouldn't it?" Ghirahim asked, circling him. Link circled right along with him, not allowing Ghirahim a chance at his back or sides. "To be able to fight like this?"_

" _Worth what? Allowing Demise to revive or the seal to fail? Letting Zelda die?" Link retorted. "What's the point of seeing if all you can do is watch your world burn?"_

" _Are those the only two paths you're capable of seeing? The Triforce or death?" Ghirahim struck out suddenly with his sword, sneaking beneath Link's defenses, and Link jumped back with a grunt as the blow nicked the top of his leg. Real or not, it hurt. "There's more than one way to defeat an enemy, child, and more than one enemy to face. Or do you think I'll take the death of my master quietly?"_

" _I…" Link hadn't thought much beyond the Triforce, and Demise's defeat. That was enough for any one person to deal with. He supposed Ghirahim_ _ **would**_ _be after revenge once he realized what Link had done._ _"I'll deal with it when it happens."_

" _You'll die when it happens," Ghirahim said flatly, lashing out again, but this time Link blocked it. "You have some skill with that sword, boy, but I think you know how easily I can surprise you when the need arises."_

" _I've beaten you before," Link growled, pressing his advantage by striking with his own sword, but Ghirahim caught it between his fingers and thrust it to the side, and it was all Link could do to maintain his grip on the hilt. "Besides, you're not the type to fight dirty. You may be a demon, but you have_ _ **some**_ _sense of honor._ _"_

" _You think me so predictable, do you?" Ghirahim laughed, disappearing in a flood of diamonds, and Link took off sprinting. However, rather than attacking behind him, Ghirahim appeared right in front of him, sword raised, and Link had to reel back to avoid running into him, barely raising his shield in time. "I prefer not to rely on my enemy's mercy, but maybe that's just me."_

" _This is pointless!" Link said, backing up angrily. "I'm done arguing. I'm using my wish to defeat Demise, and that's the end of it!"_

" _Fine," Ghirahim shrugged, snapping to produce another line of daggers that circled lazily in the air. "It's no real concern to me how you choose to throw away your life. But don't fool yourself into thinking that defeating Demise with the Triforce will be an end to the violence. There will be fighting either way, boy. I'm simply offering you a way to survive." Without warning, the daggers shot in a straight line aimed directly at his heart._

He drew a breath. Five tears down. Over halfway there. Rounding the bridge that took him behind the bazaar, he found an arc of stepping stones across a pond that glimmered blue and red, with a shining tear at the end. Link took extra care as he jumped from stone to stone, even though he'd done this over a hundred times before. One drop of that water against his skin would awaken the Guardians as surely as if a Watcher had spotted him. He might be able to outrun them, at least for a little while, but if he fell in the water itself he'd never outswim the ones that could fly.

Finally, his feet landed on firm soil. The tear sparkled within reach, and Link reluctantly bent to grab it. Could he defeat Demise on his own, if it came down to it?

 _Skyloft was on fire. Reeling from the unexpected chaos, Link turned helplessly, watching clouds of black smoke rise above flames that licked the air, devouring the only home he_ _'d ever known. In the distance he heard a scream, but from where he stood there was nobody to be seen. Where were the townsfolk? How many had escaped on their Loftwings, and how many were…_

" _Link." In the midst of all this chaos he had expected to see Ghirahim, but it was Zelda who met him, face cold and otherworldly in the harsh light of the flames. She stood tall, impervious to the fire that raged around her, blue eyes lit like an avenging goddess. Not a speck of ash or dirt marred her pristine visage._

" _What is this?" Link asked nervously, taken aback by the foreign gaze in his best friend's eyes. He knew on some level that Zelda had awoken the memories of the Goddess within her… but how much of who he faced now was Goddess, and how much Zelda?_

" _A world where you fail, and Demise wins." Link flinched, not sure if he had imagined the note of accusation in her voice. "If Demise is allowed to succeed, he will show no mercy for any of the Goddess's children. He is a creature of darkness and cruelty, and delights only in pain. Some will survive, and envy the dead." She eyed him appraisingly. "I do not know which group you will fall into. The blade could fall either way."_

" _So…" Link licked his lips. "So this is the only way? Either I wish for the end of Demise… or the world ends?"_

" _Does it matter?" Zelda asked, a hint of incredulity breaking through her cool mask. "There's always a chance that you could defeat Demise, but what measure of risk would be acceptable to you, when the alternative to victory is_ _ **this**_ _?_ _" The building nearest them collapsed in a shower of smoke and debris, emphasizing her point._

 _Link flushed at her response, part anger, part shame. She was right, of course. It wasn_ _'t fair, but nothing in life was. Still, he hated himself for wishing she could give him some of Fi's percentages to make his choice. Did Demise have an eighty percent chance of victory, or five? What level of risk would tip the balance in his mind?_

" _Maybe I did choose wrong," Zelda said, and Link froze. It was 'Father, I don't think he can do it' all over again, but worse now that the words carried divine condemnation. "The Link I thought I knew would not hesitate so."_

" _How many times," Link growled, glaring at Zelda—no, not Zelda, just a vision that wore her face and stole her voice, though that was increasingly hard to remember. "How many times do I have to prove myself before it's enough for you? Do you have any idea what I've gone through, trying to save you? While you've been_ _ **sleeping**_ _? I_ _'ll do what needs to be done, but don't you dare condemn me for wishing there was another way."_

" _It is not my condemnation you need fear, but his." Zelda gestured, and Link noticed the darkness gathering behind her, taking form. Two red slits of flame opened from the depths of it, narrowing at the sight of him, and a terrible laughter had him clutching his ears even as darkness enveloped all._

The tear sank into the vessel, though it brought him no joy. He felt sick with anger. _It_ _'s not Zelda_ , he reminded himself… but it was the Goddess, in some form or another. It was the Goddess who had set this trial for him, who forced him to prove again and again that he was the appointed hero. The Goddess who had given him this choice to make in the first place. He had never resented his destiny so much as he did in that moment. Was Zelda right? Had he changed?

Two tears remained. Giving the pond a wide berth, Link ran along the edge until he found what he was looking for—a blue tear surrounded by four Watchers, diving in and out in an intricate, unvarying pattern. The light of their lanterns gathered and spread across the ground, leaving momentary gaps that quickly filled in again. He would have only a second to run across, and another second to get out. That was the most crucial part. If he was caught leaving, it would be a race to the graveyard and the final tear. Whatever this vision held in store, he had to be ready to vault into motion if he hoped to avoid the lights.

Watching the Watchers to make sure he had their pattern down, Link waited for the perfect moment and jumped, grabbing the tear, preparing his momentum for the leap out, and—

 _He stood at the edge of a cliff, vast expanses of sand spreading before him. It took only a moment to recognize the land as Lanayru, the desert that had once held an ocean. It was with an odd sense of relief that he saw Ghirahim perched before him instead of Zelda, glancing back at his arrival. Odd and disconcerting—he had never once felt relief as a result of Ghirahim_ _'s presence. However, both demon and desert faded in importance when he finally caught sight of the_ _ **sky**_ _._

" _Wha…"_

" _I thought you'd say that," Ghirahim said, gesturing elegantly at the ground beside him. "Sit before you fall on your face. I promise not to bite. For now."_

 _Link sat without thinking, too caught up in staring to consider his own safety. The sun hovered on the edge of the horizon, a blazing ball of fire so red that he could barely tear his eyes away. Streaks of vivid color slashed across the sky, rich hues weaving and mixing in so many combinations they couldn_ _'t possibly all have names. How could there be so many colors in the world? How did people talk about anything else, when colors like these existed?_

" _Lanayru has the most exquisite sunsets," Ghirahim remarked, though he barely paid the sky a glance in favor of staring at Link. "The dust in the air scatters the light, and… ah, it's too complicated for you to understand. I thought I would show this to you at least once, since I think you will not see it again."_

" _I thought you were supposed to be convincing me otherwise?" Link said, staring steadily ahead. He refused to cry over this again. It seemed that he'd shed enough tears over the Silent Realms to refill this ocean._

" _Do you want me to convince you otherwise?"_

" _Could you promise me that everything would turn out okay if you did?" He knew the answer, of course, even before Ghirahim threw back his head and laughed._

" _Oh, sky child," he chortled fondly. "Even the spirit maiden can't promise you_ _ **that**_ _."_

 _A comfortable silence fell over them, with Link enraptured by the sky_ _'s subtly shifting gradients and the ever sinking sun. He'd heard enough stories to know that watching the sunset with someone was supposed to be romantic. Strange that he should share the experience with a manifestation of Ghirahim, of all people. The real demon would likely run him through with a sword if he ever heard about it._

" _Who are you?" Link asked finally. The sun had fallen even lower, a mere bump above the horizon, and he knew his time was almost up. A strange calm had fallen over him, and he was ready to face the end of this trial. "This can't all have come from my mind. I don't know that much."_

" _A relief to hear you admit it," Ghirahim quipped. "The trials draw from your mind and heart, but also from reality and the physical realm, and the knowledge of the Goddess herself. As for who I am… temptation is perhaps a good way to describe myself, and I'll leave it to you to figure out why_ _ **that**_ _is._ _" He smirked. "I suppose if any good has come of this, it's that you can finally see me in all my exquisite glory." The demon gestured dramatically, preening, and Link's mouth quirked despite himself._

" _So no more self-indulgent visits at night to allow me to… appreciate you?"_

" _Well now," the demon said as the sun disappeared below the horizon. "That's something I simply cannot guarantee."_

Link was ready. Vaulting forward, he slipped between the Watcher's lights with less than a second to spare, and the blue light of the tear followed his flight. _Enough of this_. He could see the necessity of these trials now—even _he_ hadn't known how strongly tempted he would be—but it was time to bury them once and for all.

A Watcher paced the entry to the graveyard, and Link knew he'd have no chance but to pass beneath its light. He readied himself to run once more, mentally saying farewell to his home. Regret welled up inside him—he still hadn't seen the halls of the school, or the floating falls, or the Goddess's statue up close—but if he was going to accept his limitations, he would do it wholeheartedly. Memories of sight always faded with the trials, as if his mind was incapable of holding any image within, but he could remember the _feel_ of what he saw. That would have to be enough.

He stepped into the Watcher's light, and it let out a terrifying screech, waking the world with its cry. Link didn't stand around to watch. Ignoring the sudden pounding of his heart, he ran forward, not looking back, dodging rocks and gravestones and reaching out his hand for the final tear of light.

 _Link stood in darkness, not as if he couldn_ _'t see the world around him, but more that there was nothing to see. To his right stood Zelda, smiling but sad, clad in the simple white dress of the Goddess. In her hands was a blindfold, held aloft for him to take. Turning to his left he found Ghirahim, the ever-present quirk of his lips absent. Wordlessly, he offered him a sword. The choice could not have been clearer: to see and fight, and put his trust in strength… or to accept._

 _Finally, the last of his resistance faded, and Link made the only possible choice. With a wry smile, he walked towards Zelda. The figure of Ghirahim faded from sight, vanishing completely as he stood in front of his old friend._

" _Is it necessary?" he asked. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, which struck him as funny. His were completely dry._

" _I would not ask this of you if it were not," she promised, and he bowed his head, falling to one knee. With trembling hands, she affixed the blindfold around his eyes, cutting off the sight of her forever. When she finished, her hands stayed on his head. "In exchange for your sacrifice, I bless you with aid when you need it most. I cannot fight your battles for you, but if the worst comes to pass, you will not be left sightless."_

 _Link didn_ _'t understand, but he nodded anyway. He thought he felt her lips press against his forehead, and then her presence vanished. The final tear hummed as it entered the vessel of his spirit, and Link rose one final time, swallowed in the light._

"Congratulations master. You have passed all of the trials." Fi's silvery voice and the return of the breeze and ambient noise of Skyloft told him he was back. After everything he'd just been through, it felt too normal to be real.

The world was dark once more, as he knew it would remain.

Link shifted to stand, his muscles stiff and protesting after sitting for so long, and paused as he felt something pressed against his eyes. The blindfold. He deliberated for a moment, but decided to keep it on. If it had carried over into the physical realm, there had to be a reason. Besides, wearing it reminded him that his blindness was now a personal choice, and not just something fate had thrust upon him. It made a difference, thinking of it like that.

There was something else he'd received from the trial, he realized, passing the small object between his hands.

"Fi, what's this?"

"The stone of trials. The item you just obtained is actually one of a pair, Master. Another similar object with a mark just like the one you hold exists somewhere on this island. Combining the two should open the way to the Triforce." She paused. "I suggest you enlist the help of somebody more visually inclined to search for that matching stone."

Link couldn't help himself—he threw back his head and laughed. It felt good.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to everyone who left feedback! It's seriously what keeps me motivated. I've had a couple requests for the ghiralink and I get it, but it's gotta happen organically, u feel?

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Ghirahim knew the moment of his master's death.

His eyes narrowed, and he couldn't repress a distressed twitch of his fingers as the enormous island that had fallen from the sky finally settled, reforming the courtyard of the ancient temple as he remembered it from so long ago. It was a terrible, disquieting necessity, but it was also a crucial step in the larger scheme of events. Even as he watched, the last threads of the Goddess's seal unraveled and faded, along with the divine shield barring him from the temple and the Gate of Time within. Link had succeeded, it seemed, and with that success his master's return was nearly assured.

With some amusement, the demon noticed Link sprawled before the shining manifestation of the Triforce, knocked off his feet by the force of the impact as the spirit of his sword floated serenely beside him. It was ridiculous that this clumsy oaf of a boy had claimed such immense power, a power that had so enthralled Demise that he'd had its image emblazoned on his sword. Idly, he wondered whether Link knew how many had died seeking those holy shards that he'd obtained almost incidentally. Probably not. Knowledge was its own form of power, and Hylia was never one to share that when it could be helped.

With a snap, he entered the temple, concealing himself behind a large stone pillar to wait. True to his expectations, the Gate of Time stood before him, massive and solemn in its presence. From behind closed doors, the spirit maiden's presence stirred, awakening from her self-imposed slumber. All was in place. The air thrummed with the weight of that which was to come.

He considered taking the goddess then—the aged Sheikah and hulking brute guarding the gate were surely no threat—but sweet anticipation stayed his hand. Link had earned this victory, and he deserved to live it to its fullest. It was only fair that the hero enjoy the fruit of his labor before Ghirahim snatched it away. The higher the pedestal Link fell from, the more delectable his own triumph would be.

It didn't take long before the doors to the temple opened, etching the hero's outline in pure light, and for once Ghirahim had to give him points for presentation. His head raised expectantly, tilted as if listening for something, and whatever he heard made him smile with pure hope. It looked strange on a face Ghirahim had come to know as fierce.

The spirit maiden entered then, stumbling, and the boy was there to catch her, holding her close in a way that made Ghirahim's lip curl. The two clasped hands, pulled away, rejoined like a choreographed dance of discovery and joy, all while that red-haired buffoon flitted around them like a fool, laughing and crying in turns. Link laughed easily at his antics, laughed even when the excited idiot shook Link with enormous meaty hands that had no business gripping his shoulders like that. He laughed at everything, and nothing at all. With every passing second the hero grew lighter, as if remembering again what it felt like to walk without burdens. Ghirahim watched it all with dark amusement, knowing what lay mere seconds in the boy's future, but a part of him rankled at being so quickly forgotten with the "defeat" of his master. Did the sky child find him so easy to dismiss? He would learn soon enough.

The spirit maiden also laughed, with an innocence that felt ill-suited to someone in full possession of Hylia's memories. Every bright glance she sent at Link was pure hypocrisy after all her previous incarnation had demanded of him. But then, it was always she who eventually withdrew, slipping her hand away to hug a friend or touch her hair before allowing him to claim it once more. Perhaps she knew it, too. At least she had removed the blindfold the boy had taken to wearing once more, pulling it down to peer into his smiling, sightless eyes. For that alone, Ghirahim thought he could spare her unnecessary pain during the ritual she would soon endure. He looked forward to watching that sparkling joy drain from the boy's eyes as his world was finally, irrevocably torn to pieces.

And then, with the hero's inevitable defeat, life itself would drain from those eyes, and he would die. It should have made him giddy with excitement, but he found the thought of life without Link surprisingly dull. He made such a satisfying opponent, partly from his skill with the sword but mostly due to sheer tenacity. Ghirahim had never shied away from necessary bloodshed—he was a weapon, after all, with the temperament of a sword—but a part of him wished that their battles could stretch on indefinitely. A foolish notion, with his master's return so close at hand. The demon king would quell all resistance.

To Ghirahim's disgust, Link's hand was stretched yet again for the maiden's, and he decided in that instant that it was time to end this happy reunion. He snapped, and with a sharp crack and a flurry of diamonds, the two were torn apart.

Time itself seemed to stop. Every face wore the same comical expression of shock, as if the implications of what had just taken place refused to sink in, and Ghirahim couldn't help himself. His laughter was wild even to his own ears as he stepped dramatically into view, noting with satisfaction the way Link tensed at his voice. The spirit maiden looked up at him in distress, weakened from having borne the brunt of the blow, but as thrilling as it was to finally, _finally_ have her within reach, her soul was simply a means to an end. It was Link, her stupidly tenacious hero, his destined opponent, the constant thorn in his side that he _still_ couldn't bring himself to destroy, who he chose to address.

"This is all very touching, but I'm afraid I have to cut this emotional moment short." The two children were still closer to each other than Ghirahim cared for. In an instant, he stood between them, leering down at the fallen hero. "It's best for everyone if you forget about your friend, Link. The little goddess is mine now!"

With a wave of his hand, the girl lifted in the air, and her small moan finally stirred Link to action. Snarling, he started to rise, only to fall once more with a startled gasp of pain. Ghirahim's smirk deepened, and he bent down to grasp the boy's hair in a tight fist, stretching his head back. Mere theatrics would not be enough here. Link required something more… physical.

"You've been so adorably dogged in your quest to get in my way, but as much as it has delighted me, I can no longer tolerate you nipping at my heels." Link would not be standing on that ankle for some time. He could not be allowed to follow, not when things could still go so very wrong. "Wait here like a good boy, and perhaps you'll survive to see the end."

"Demise… is dead," Link panted, struggling against his grip. "It's over, Ghirahim. You don't need her anymore. Just… take me. I'm the one who… who did it."

He closed his eyes in acceptance, and Ghirahim realized suddenly that Link hadn't forgotten about him after all. He'd been expecting this, and had already resigned himself to the possibility. Did he really care so much for the simple girl who served only as a vessel?

Still, he obviously didn't grasp the full breadth of Ghirahim's plan.

"Do you think," Ghirahim said slowly, as if talking to somebody very stupid, "that my master could disappear from this world, and I would not know it?"

Link's brow furrowed. "But—"

"My master may have perished in this age, but in the past he lives yet!" he hissed, and Link's eyes flew open.

"No," he whispered in hoarse realization.

"I'm taking the girl back through that gate to help me revive the demon king!"

"No!"

Link bucked. Tearing his head from Ghirahim's grasp—and losing more than a few hairs in the process—Link reached his hand back and had his sword drawn, aiming it shakily at Ghirahim's throat.

"Demise is dead!" he repeated forcefully, touching the blindfold that still hung around his neck. "I made my choice. This isn't supposed to happen! She should have warned me!" It was all incomprehensible to Ghirahim.

"If you meant to kill me there, you should not have hesitated." Grasping the tip of the Link's sword as he'd done so long ago, he moved it away from his throat with a pitying expression. "I don't even have the time to grind my heel into a worm like you. Not now."

With a snap, he and the girl vanished. This time, he allowed a long moment for anxiety to set in before reappearing directly in front of the Gate of Time, with the spirit maiden draped over his shoulder.

"…Link…" The girl's breathing was labored. Either she was still weak from the long sleep, or he'd damaged her more than he'd intended to. Ghirahim always forgot how breakable humans were.

"No!" It was not Link who spoke this time, but the fool with red hair. Jumping up, he stood between him and the Gate of Time with arms spread wide as if to bar his way, and Ghirahim felt a stab of annoyance. Did every human intend to throw their measly strength against him today? This one wasn't even armed.

"Stand down," he growled. "You're in my way, and the sight of your appalling hair makes my gorge rise." What was the point of making a statement with your appearance when you had nothing to say?

The boy frantically shook his head, spreading his arm wider, and Ghirahim's patience abruptly ran out. A single kick sent the human sprawling, and he walked through unhindered, glancing back as he entered.

"You've done a fine job of spoiling my plans to revive the demon king in this age, so I see no point in dawdling here. But the past… oh, the past… so full of possibilities!" Link had finally managed to stand, but the pain of it was clear on his face. A single step would crumple him, and they both knew it. Ghirahim's grin widened as he felt the Gate activate. "I shall resurrect him there with the divine soul of this golden-haired girl!"

The helpless fury on Link's face lingered with him long after the sight of him faded away, his presence cut off completely by centuries of time.

He had expected the Sheikah dog standing guard on the other side, though to her misfortune she had not expected him. Ghirahim took particularly vicious satisfaction in subduing her, remembering how she had helped to foil his plans at the first Gate of Time, but he didn't waste the precious moments it would take to kill her. He was focused now, intent on the completion of his mission. He was so close, _so close!_ The girl in his arms groaned, protesting weakly as they left the Sheikah lying face down on the stone floor, and Ghirahim smiled to himself.

"There, there," he said with mock concern, snapping his fingers to transport them to the spiraling grounds outside. "Please try to relax, your Grace. I promise not to hurt you… more than necessary."

A touch of his magic put her all the way out, the smallest mercy he was willing to extend, and Ghirahim arranged the girl gently on the ground near the spike her previous incarnation had used to seal his master away. He could feel his master's dark energy there, straining against its bonds for release. It had been _so long._ The ritual required was emblazoned upon his very soul, his entire purpose for existing. He had been created of steel and flames, forged from the sword to defend his master, given life to serve his master. He breathed in deeply, feeling the divine power coming off the girl in waves and fanning it higher, his feet moving in the patterns that would dictate the flow of energy and channel it through his master.

"Yes," he breathed as his master's energy pulsed in response, the sky darkening as the sun itself hid from his presence. The girl twitched in discomfort, straining her head away, and it was hard in that moment not to be reminded of Link. They had their similarities in appearance, although her hair was a paler yellow, his eyes a brighter blue. Just so he had struggled the first day they met, when Ghirahim snuck up behind him. Even then, he had smelled of fear and sweat and defiance, and…

Ghirahim dismissed the thought with a scowl. He had a ritual to compete. This was no time to be reminiscing about— _Link!_

A presence that _should not_ have been there was suddenly at the edge of his senses, coming closer. How had Link followed so quickly? He'd hoped that the brat would have exhausted his little potion stock in the process of getting the Triforce, but he'd obviously had just enough left. Link was too fast. He needed more time!

Glancing around the spiraling pit, he came up with a plan. He couldn't split his concentration too much without compromising the ritual, but he was sure he could delay the boy long enough to get it well underway. His master had hordes of minions at his disposal. All Ghirahim had to do was call them forth.

He knew without looking the moment Link walked through the door above, and snapped. Barriers fell from the heavens, barring Link from jumping to the rescue with that flimsy cloth of his. The boy would be forced to take the long way down, and he would not go unhindered.

Finishing the last few steps of the ritual, humming loudly for Link's benefit to show how unconcerned he was, he finally looked up at the hero and grinned. The boy had bound his eyes again, an irritating habit Ghirahim intended to break him of, but he faced the pit with a furious snarl as if he knew exactly where the demon lord was and what he was doing.

Unfortunately for him, all that anger would get him nowhere. The girl hovered before him now, twisting and moaning as her powerful soul was siphoned away. Soon the spell would become self-sustaining, requiring only Ghirahim's presence to maintain itself. His task was nearly complete.

"Hear me, my hordes," he called, voice manic now with anticipation. "The spell is nearly complete. The demon king returns! Until then, you WILL keep that whelp from interfering with my ritual. I don't care if the whole lot of you get lodged on the end of his blade. You will buy me the time I need! Do not fear him… Fear my wrath if you fail me!"

Demons appeared, dozens of them, hundreds. So many that the path would run with blood before Link made it to the end, _if_ Link made it to the end. They ran, brutish and primitive but powerful in their numbers, shaking the ground with the force of their steps. Ghirahim watched as Link stepped back uncertainly before his resolve hardened. Reaching a hand back to draw his blade, Link faced the oncoming horde… and one by one, his demon army died.

The sight was beautiful to behold, and Ghirahim's tongue flicked out subconsciously. Somehow, without Ghirahim even noticing, this stumbling swordsman had become precise and deadly: an exquisite executioner. Link was fury made flesh. Inch by inch he gained and kept his ground, dancing from foe to foe with stunning ferocity. The level of destruction he left in his wake was breathtaking. _He_ was breathtaking.

He was also too fast.

Hastily, Ghirahim threw up another barrier, tying it to the life force of one of his stronger bokoblins. Link would bypass it soon enough, but he didn't have the energy to maintain it and complete the ritual at the same time. The girl's struggles were more frantic now, and Link surged forward as if those little gasps of pain spurred him on. With a merciless slash, the bokoblin he'd chosen died, and the barrier fell. Too fast!

He erected another barrier, and another. Still, Link showed no signs of tiring. The hero was a relentless avalanche, barreling through every obstacle Ghirahim could throw in front of him… but already, the girl's struggles were weakening. The spell was gaining momentum, and Ghirahim sped it along as quickly as he dared. Nothing could go wrong now! This was _his_ moment!

"You are far too quick, boy," he growled. Link had reached the bottom of the pit, and Ghirahim released his other barriers in favor of maintaining a circular enclosure around himself and the goddess. "I realize a simple child like you knows nothing of magic, but spells like this take time and a steady hand! Can't you wait quietly like a good boy? Hmm?" Link didn't answer, too busy slaughtering his remaining hordes with single-minded focus. Such great effort he'd gone through to spare his life, and the boy didn't even have the decency to—

Ghirahim froze. _Spare his life?_

That _had_ been his foolish motivation, trying to delay Link without outright killing him. When had his guilty little habit become… something more? All those times he had played with the boy, watched him, teased and touched him… he had considered them innocent pleasures, little diversions after the centuries of boredom he'd endured in endless waiting. Only now did he see it for what it truly was: weakness. Somehow Link had wormed under his skin, intruding on his thoughts at the most inopportune moments and eliciting a _fondness_ that Ghirahim had not known the full extent of until this moment. Not a gadfly, this boy, but a parasite, weakening his resolve from within.

With icy dread, he realized that Link was equally dangerous with or without that sword he carried. He had made Demon Lord Ghirahim, the fearsome sword and trusted servant of Demon King Demise… soft.

And his master would have no use for a soft sword.

"You know what? Fine!" he hissed, releasing the barrier and sending the spirit maiden up and out of reach with a wave of his arms, ignoring her distress. The spell was finally running unaided now. All he needed now was time. "If you're so intent on hurrying to your grave, I'll be happy to show you the way!"

The boy obviously had no such softness. He approached Ghirahim silently, sword at the ready. No mercy, as he had promised—as they _both_ had promised. Who would have thought that Link would prove the stronger of them after all?

But that was about to change. It was time to reveal his true power, as he should have done all along.

"This time there will be no heroic escape. I was a fool to toy with you and let you walk away with your life before, but I won't make that mistake again." It had been so long, but he felt it now, rising up within him, an avalanche of darkness that he sent hurtling toward the sky. It consumed him, overwhelmed him, and he laughed recklessly at the feeling of sheer power. "That, I promise!"

His master's return was all that mattered now. If Link was a weakness, then he would crush him here once and for all. His dead and broken body would make fine sustenance for the demon king.


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter was a beast to write, but it's done. Next chapter should tie up some of the loose... threads. Also, I published a more obviously GhiraLink oneshot last week that you're welcome to check out, should you so desire. Enjoy :)

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Rage pulsed through Link, fueling him in his desperate race against time. He almost thought he could see it, like a sinuous red line spiraling into the darkness, and he followed that blood-soaked thread down its grisly path. If Ghirahim intended to defile these sacred grounds with the blood of his own demons, so be it. Link would pay the price in nightmares when it was all over. For now, the memory of a world on fire spurred him on, blade flashing as he claimed his ground. He lost count of how many monsters fell beneath his sword.

It was all so obvious in hindsight. Of course Ghirahim's reasons for saving him had never been altruistic, or born of some misplaced affection. He'd been planning this all along. Worse, he'd tangled himself in Link's thoughts so thoroughly that he'd been too distracted to see it coming. He could blame the Goddess for not foreseeing this, or Ghirahim for causing it in the first place, or Impa or Fi or anyone else who might have realized the glaring flaw in their plan to defeat Demise, but in the end it had been his responsibility.

It was still his responsibility, assuming he wasn't too late. He moved on instinct, following the feather light vibrations of his sword, Fi's crystalline voice, and his own keen senses, cutting flesh like grass with as little thought. Every cry from Zelda's lips was condemnation in his ears, and every step down the path a small act of redemption. Please, let it not be too late!

As he finally slew the last of the demons, turning to face Ghirahim for what he knew would be their final encounter, Link found to his surprise that the imagined red thread that had drawn him along did not fade away. If anything it pulsed brighter now, pulling him further towards the center of the pit. Following the line curiously to its origin, he was shocked to see the other end buried in his chest, anchored to his heart with a radiant, pulsing glow. He blinked, then clenched his eyes shut, but the red light remained.

"You know what? Fine! If you're so intent on hurrying to your grave, I'll be happy to show you the way!"

The words came out in a hiss, and Link looked up in dismay as Zelda cried out, a sharp sound that faded as she was sent up and out of his reach. To his wonder, he found that a thin golden thread now stretched between them as well, trembling as if it might snap at any moment. Even as he watched, another long thread appeared, thin and quivering but steadily growing thicker. It glowed dully, a crimson so dark it was almost black, tying Zelda to the pit that Link knew with clenching horror must contain Demise. With each passing second he saw a new line of light, connecting people and places and things he could only guess at until an incomprehensible web formed around him, multicolored and gleaming.

Link raised a bewildered hand to his eyes, and his fingers brushed the soft cloth of the blindfold Zelda had given him. He'd been careful to retie it before following after her, thinking that if any situation could be considered "the worst," this was it. Experimentally, he tugged down on the cloth, and the tangle of threads blinked out of existence. Pulling it back up, he found they were all still there, shining once more.

 _You will not be left sightless._ The Goddess's blessing… but what did it all mean?

"This time there will be no heroic escape. I was a fool to toy with you and let you walk away with your life before, but I won't make that mistake again."

Ghirahim's voice was rough and wild as if something in him had finally snapped, and the air grew heavy with dark foreboding. Ignoring what he could not understand, Link turned his attention to the thread that mattered most: the bright crimson line connecting him and Ghirahim, a red thread of fate more vivid and real than either of them could have imagined. Link shifted to the balls of his feet, readying himself for an attack that felt imminent, but then—

"That, I promise!"

The gathering darkness ignited, erupting in a wave that sent the red light between them dancing frantically. Link was forced back as Ghirahim roared, a frenzied crescendo underscored by a dull, terrible thrumming noise. The earth beneath him trembled, and he fought to keep his balance as he felt himself rising in the air, the ground itself pushing him skyward. Terror gripped his heart as he looked up in search of Zelda's thread, the other end still frustratingly out of reach.

"What's happening?" Link whispered frantically to Fi. "The ritual… is it…?"

"No," she assured him, and the vice around his chest eased slightly as she explained the platform Ghirahim had created. There was still time, then. At least Ghirahim couldn't finish the ritual with Link keeping him occupied. If the demon lord thought that fighting in the air would give him the advantage, he would soon come to regret taking their battle to the sky.

As quickly as it hit its peak, the dark thundering ceased. Link tilted his head warily. Ghirahim's footsteps… clanked. The red light between them had finally settled, coalescing now on Ghirahim's end in a large red diamond that pulsed with something like a heartbeat.

"Be cautious, Master," Fi said. "There is a 90% change in outward appearance compared to previous encounters with him. Ghirahim has become extremely dangerous and is likely to fell you with a single blow."

"If only I'd put you in your place from the very beginning," Ghirahim growled, and his voice reverberated, reminding him inexplicably of Fi. "Show a human a little mercy and next thing you know, he thinks himself your equal!"

Link forced his face into a hard mask, if only to hid his unease. He was just now realizing what a small sliver of himself Ghirahim had ever revealed to Link. It shouldn't have felt like a betrayal, but it did.

"Given my station, I had to maintain some semblance of dignity, so I let you run with your life. Twice, even. Such a guilty pleasure…" His voice faded, for a moment sounding like the man Link had thought he'd known, but then it hardened once more. "But instead of scurrying away like any creature with a basic instinct to survive, you just kept coming back. Again… and again… and again."

He was advancing now. Link took a step back, and Fi gave a warning chime.

"Master, you are approaching the edge of the platform."

"I've let a mere boy make a fool of me for the last time. You stand before a demon… or should I say, a _weapon_ without mercy!"

The thread of light between them spasmed and contracted, the red diamond rushing to hover right in front of Link, and for once he didn't need the telltale chimes to know what had happened. Before he could react, Ghirahim's fingers had clasped Link's free hand. Twisting in his grip, they… shifted. In an instant, his hand was grasping something cylindrical and heavy. The red diamond shrank to nestle at the base of what felt like… a hilt.

Link gasped as he understood, eyes wide beneath the blindfold. In one hand he still held the Master Sword, but in the other… an enormous sword weighed him down, too heavy even to lift. Dark energy emanated from the blade, a perfect counterpoint to the Master Sword's holy light. He didn't need the red thread to know that it was Ghirahim. He could _feel_ it.

The weapon dissolved, red light darting to reform the diamond a safe distance away, but Link was still reeling. Little observations he had made fell into place: the way Ghirahim had so easily passed as Link's sword before, his unswerving devotion to one he called "Master," those fingers catching Link's blade as if steel meant nothing… like Fi, he was a living, breathing weapon.

"We don't have to do this," Link pleaded, though he knew more than ever that it was pointless. Ghirahim may have moved with more independence and freedom than Fi was allowed—a disturbing thought that Link would come back to later—but his actions were in service to the demon king as surely as if Demise directed them himself. He would no more turn from aiding his master than Fi would.

Sure enough, Ghirahim laughed, and the impossible hope withered inside him.

"For you, _sky child_ , I've prepared a most appropriate and humiliating death. I even have a pet name for it. I call it the endless plunge!"

Link took another step back as Ghirahim approached, and Fi chimed again in warning.

"First, I will take my time bludgeoning you." Link could hear the building excitement in Ghirahim's voice. There would be no holding back on his side. "Then, when I grow bored of it, I will drive you to the edge and deliver a last strike to send you falling to your doom!"

"Should he succeed in this endeavor, I calculate that you will not have time to deploy your sailcloth effectively," Fi said, and for the first time Link considered the platform's edge with a flicker of fear. Ghirahim had set this up perfectly.

"Make no mistake, boy," Ghirahim hissed, and Link gripped his sword tighter. "I'll _delight_ in casting your body into this pit and snuffing out the flame of your life." The red diamond dipped in a mocking sort of bow. "Shall we?"

He advanced. Link stepped sideways, circling to avoid the platform's edge.

"What's the situation?" he said quietly, keeping a close eye on the approaching demon. At least he had sight, in a way, though if he didn't understand what or how. If Ghirahim tried to teleport, Link could find him easily.

"For the moment, Ghirahim is unarmed," Fi reported, her voice soothing in its familiar calm, "although I am detecting a significant increase in muscular strength. Unfortunately, I must also conclude that none of your weapons will be effective against him."

"Then… what should I do?" Had he stumbled into a fight he couldn't win?

"Master, I advise—"

"None of that now!" Ghirahim sang, snapping his fingers. "Your sword will not win the battle for you this time!"

To Link's horror, a loud chime started to ring, drowning out Fi's voice. It was something like what Ghirahim had done at the volcano, except this was unending, a long, piercing note that swallowed the sounds of the world around him.

Link forced himself to keep moving, unable to hear even the quick, fearful thumps of his own heart. The sound was constant, penetrating… deafening. He couldn't hear.

It hadn't occurred to him until now that every other time they'd fought, Ghirahim had been unaware of Link's greatest weakness. Now he knew, and was targeting that weakness ruthlessly. Link's sharp ears were how he navigated life without sight, his only method of placing himself and others in the world around him. Losing that was like its own kind of darkness. Although…

That red string of fate still danced, the red diamond on the other end steadily approaching. Ghirahim didn't know that Link could see him coming, and Link realized that he couldn't let him find out.

It was his only advantage.

"Fi, can you hear me?" Link whispered, tuning out the din even as a lifetime of experience screamed at him to listen. The sword in his hand pulsed in response—a very small comfort. "I need you to alert me as I get close to the edge of the platform. When he's about to knock me off, let me know." Fi pulsed once more in confirmation, then took up a low-level vibration that Link interpreted to mean the edge was still a distance away. A wave of helplessness washed over Link—any number of things could go wrong and then all would be lost—but he forced it down, taking a few clumsy swipes with his sword even though Ghirahim was still too far to hit. A vague sort of plan was forming in his mind, and it depended on Ghirahim's ignorance.

The single note playing in his ears morphed into loud, mocking laughter. Link gritted his teeth, striking out once more. This time his sword glanced off something hard, but to no observable effect. Fi had said that none of his weapons would work against Ghirahim. Even if Link survived this round, how was he supposed to beat him? How did you kill a sword?

"Is this really the best the hero of Hylia has to offer?" Ghirahim asked, voice ringing, and Fi twitched sharply in his hands a second before something hard collided with his face, sending him sprawling.

"Don't warn me when he's attacking," Link mumbled so Ghirahim couldn't hear, scrambling back up. His jaw ached, and he tasted blood. "Only when he's about to knock me off." If Link had to let himself be knocked around a bit to maintain the illusion of blindness, so be it. After a small pause, Fi pulsed in acknowledgment.

Still, there was no need to act completely helpless. Their old battles together had engraved themselves in his memory, and he could almost picture Ghirahim approaching, hand outstretched. Using the same quick strike that had allowed Link to get a hit in before, Link slipped past Ghirahim's outstretched hand to slice at the demon, but this time there was no grunt of pain. His blow bounced off harmlessly as if striking metal, and Ghirahim laughed again.

"Do you see your limitations now, boy?" A kick caught him right in the gut. Link doubled over, fighting for breath, and was knocked to the side by a sharp blow to his ribs. Dazed, Link tried to rise once more, but cried out as a foot stepped on his shield, crushing the arm beneath it. Nothis sword hand, a part of Link thought with relief, even as he struggled to escape his pinned position.

"After seeing you demolish my hordes, I had expected more from you… but I suppose it was simply your sword you relied on all this time." Link scowled. It wasn't fair that Ghirahim could effectively deafen him and _still_ have the chance to gloat. He sounded dissatisfied. "How… disappointing."

Link said nothing, bracing himself for the next strike. Every breath hurt. If Fi was correct, which she usually was, even a single blow from Ghirahim in this form could be fatal, but he had been sure that Ghirahim would want to draw things out. So far, he'd been right.

"I find I have lost my appetite for this after all," Ghirahim said abruptly. "Hold still, whelp. I intend to at least see the light leave your eyes as you die."

The red diamond hovering above him lowered, and Link realized with horror that he was reaching for the blindfold. He reacted without thought, bringing the hilt of his sword slamming forward. By some miracle, it hit Ghirahim square in the face.

For one blessed moment, the ever present noise stopped. Ghirahim grunted, more out of surprise than pain, but it was enough. Yanking as if his life depended on it—which it very much did right then—Link freed his arm and rolled, ignoring the jolting pain in his muscles as he leapt to his feet, sword raised to keep the demon at bay.

"Not broken after all, I see." Ghirahim's laughter rang in his ears once more, before transforming suddenly into a snarl. " _Good._ "

On instinct, Link hopped back, dodging another strike so narrowly he felt the wind of it brush his face. His sword vibrated more urgently as he approached the edge. The golden thread still connecting him to Zelda was a small ray of hope, but he had to get her away. Maybe he could goad Ghirahim into ending this quickly.

"I always thought you'd prefer a fair fight," Link yelled, unable to hear his own voice. "Scared to face me without your magic tricks?"

He'd been hoping to anger the demon, but Ghirahim just laughed derisively. It had been a poor attempt. Link didn't imagine that he looked threatening at all right then. "This is a fair fight, child. The best of my abilities against the best of yours. If the match is uneven, it's no fault of mine."

Another hit to his head sent him sprawling, and the world went hazy for a moment. Shaking his head with a wince, he rolled stubbornly to his feet. Blood oozed down his forehead, soaking the blindfold. If this went on for much longer, he'd be in no condition to fight. Link took another swipe with his sword, and Ghirahim caught the blow with his fingers. He barely managed to wrench his blade free.

"You're afraid of my sword, then?" Link tried again desperately. Ghirahim was always so adept at eliciting a reaction from him, but he had no idea how to do the same. "I should have guessed. You mention my sword every time we fight."

"Your sword is useless against me," Ghirahim said, his voice an amplified roar in Link's ears, and this time he sounded irritated. Link wasn't quite there yet, but he'd touched on something. "She is as inferior as her master. Face it, Link, you've lost. Whatever you're trying to do won't—"

"Not afraid," Link interrupted in sudden realization. "Jealous."

The red diamond stopped its advance. "What?"

Link licked his lips, taking a final step back. Fi reverberated so strongly his whole arm shook. It was a shot in the dark, but… "What kind of a master is Demise?"

He knew he'd struck a hit. The temperature dropped, the air pulsating with Ghirahim's fury. The ever-present noise ceased abruptly, and the silence it left behind was equally deafening.

"He is a soon-to-be living master," Ghirahim seethed into the stillness, "whereas you are a soon-to-be _dead_ one."

Link didn't need Fi's signal to know what was about to happen. As Ghirahim rushed forward to drive him over the edge, Link dropped to the ground, rolling nimbly behind the red diamond and pushing as hard as he could from behind. It almost didn't work—Ghirahim was heavy in this new form—but he had momentum on his side, and the demon was already off balance. With a startled yell, Ghirahim fell, and Link watched the red thread between them expand breathlessly. Link's weapons might not be able to touch him, but maybe a fall from this height…

Ghirahim's descent halted sooner than Link had expected, and his heart dropped. He must have erected another platform to suspend his fall. This had all been for nothing. Except… that red diamond still pulsed, reminding Link again of a human heart. He thought of his end of the thread, attached to his own beating heart. Fi had said that none of Link's weapons would be effective, but…

Before the thought had fully formed in his mind, Link jumped. With all the fearlessness of someone who had been leaping off cliffs his entire life, Link fell after him, sword poised beneath him to strike. He landed, holy blade piercing the center of that fluttering diamond, and there was a resounding _crack_.

Ghirahim shrieked.

The platform beneath them dissolved, and the two fell the rest of the way down together, Link twisting in the air to avoid impaling himself on his own sword. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and Link moaned as fresh pain flooded his worn and beaten body. Eventually he stumbled back to his feet, but by then he'd lost the advantage. Ghirahim had already recovered, though his breathing was ragged.

"You wretched brat!" he screamed. Link had never heard him so undone, and he wondered when Ghirahim had last experienced actual pain.

"Well done, master." Fi's cool voice was a relief, even to his ringing ears. He hoped there was no permanent damage, but it was too early to tell. "I predict an 80% chance that he is too weakened from your attack to maintain his aural assault." Link nodded, raising his blade to point at Ghirahim's chest.

"I don't want to kill you." Link was shocked at the truth of his own unsteady words even as he spoke them. Why did he keep trying to spare Ghirahim's life? "Just… give me Zelda, and I'll leave you alone." He could destroy the Gate of Time, and Demise would never be revived. Nobody else had to die.

Ghirahim chuckled in response, the sound devolving quickly into hysterical laughter.

"I may have become soft," Ghirahim rasped finally, "but at least I am not the only one. Let's finish this."

Link's heart sank.

"Master, Ghirahim is now armed," Fi reported. "I recommend further assault on the area you struck previously."

Link nodded grimly, shifting into a fighting stance. Crossing swords with Ghirahim was never easy, but at least it was familiar. He'd been training for this since their first encounter in Skyview temple.

Ghirahim fought with a frenzy Link had never seen from him before, intent this time on seeing him dead, and at first Link could barely keep up. Only his chainmail prevented a slice across his chest that would otherwise have been fatal, and a dagger that he didn't dodge fast enough sliced across his thigh, burning fiercely. What saved his life was that, to Ghirahim's growing frustration, he could no longer sneak up on him. Wherever he went, a red thread pointed him out like an arrow, and the diamond on his chest was a glowing target that Link sought out mercilessly.

With a growl of frustration as his line of daggers were knocked aside, Ghirahim snapped to appear directly behind Link, who wasted no time. In one smooth motion he pivoted, thrusting his blade into that diamond once more, and Ghirahim screamed again.

"How?" he demanded, falling back and deflecting Link's attempts to pursue. He disappeared again, the thread between them pulling straight up, and Link dove forward as Ghirahim came crashing down from above inches behind his heels. Another stab as Ghirahim wrenched his sword from the earth, and another scream. "This is preposterous!"

Zelda's golden thread was dwindling quickly. He had to end this fast. Deflecting Ghirahim's strike with his shield, and gritting his teeth at the pain of his injured arm, Link sliced once more across the demon's chest, and when Ghirahim could do nothing but scream in pain he sliced again. Again... and again... and again.

The corners of his eyes burned with tears that he didn't understand.

"ENOUGH!" Ghirahim boomed, flickering away from Link's strikes, but not to mount his own assault. His breath came in short gasps.

"Driven to my knees by a simple child of man," he groaned. "Laughable! No matter how many times we clash, I can't prevail! You think I can't defeat you? You think I can't win?" Ghirahim laughed, but it came out as a wheeze. "Boy… what are you?"

Link didn't answer, preparing to snap this thread of fate once and for all. He stepped forward, but was halted by Ghirahim's sudden wild laughter, painful and grotesque. A chill ran down his spine. It sounded… triumphant.

"Ahhh… but never mind that. Victory is still mine to savor." His voice grew steadily in strength, and a deep foreboding fell over Link. "While we fought, the ritual I started continued… and at last, it's complete! The demon king shall devour the soul of the goddess and resurrect in his full glory!"

"No!" Link yelled, shaking his head in denial. The golden thread—she was still alive! But he could feel it now, the earth beginning to rumble as Zelda's pained cries grew in volume. Link may have won the battle, but Ghirahim had won the war. A wave of dark energy erupted from the pit's center, and Link sheltered behind his shield, panicking as it washed over him. He had to get her down from there. He had to—

There was nothing he could do.

An ear-splitting roar shook Link to his core. He knew that sound. It was the Imprisoned beast he'd worked so many times to subdue. Zelda's cries above him rose in pitch and volume until they were a single unending shriek of agony. The sound of it tore Link in two.

"Don't you see?" Ghirahim cried joyfully as air and energy whipped around them in a frenzy, and Link had to fight to keep his feet. "It's all over! You and your kind have lost! This world and everything in it now belong to darkness! They belong to my master!"

His manic laughter rose to a crescendo, matching the forces of earth and magic that raged around them.

Demise was going to be revived. Link had lost.

In the space of a moment, the world went still. Ghirahim's laughter cut off as the wind and darkness vanished, leaving a hush broken only by Link's harsh breathing. That golden thread still arced above him, thinner than ever and dwindling still, and Link felt a spark of hope. The ritual had failed… Yet even as he thought those words, two slitted eyes of fire emerged from the darkness, eyes that he recognized from a terrible future he'd hoped never to see again. Fear and despair clamped over his heart.

"Welcome back to us, Master." Ghirahim's red diamond bobbed low in a bow, and for the first time, Link felt true hatred for the man who had stolen everything from him.

For a long moment, Demise did not respond. Then Link felt a rush of dark power, and there was a terrible choking gasp.

 _Zelda?_ No… no.

Ghirahim's red diamond flickered, arcing down, and he fell to the earth with a thud.


	8. Chapter 8

CW: ptsd, depression

This chapter is a behemoth, and I'm sorry. I thought about cutting it, but I didn't want it to end on a depressing note... so also, you're welcome. Enjoy.

EDIT: Okay I see the confusion now, so let me clarify that I didn't want THE CHAPTER to end on a depressing note. Not the entire story. THE CHAPTER. Some of you left reviews that were very sweet and understanding about how you loved the open ending and I really appreciate it, and I guess if that's your cup of tea you're free to stop reading after this but THERE WILL BE MORE VERY SOON. I never intended to leave it like this ;-; Sorry, and thank you, and also enjoy!

* * *

 _This was wrong._

 _Link wished Ghirahim would snap his fingers and bring back that ceaseless, deafening chime. He wanted to cover his own ears, to scream and yell himself if it would drown out that terrible excuse for laughter, those howls of euphoric despair._

 _Instead, Link stood helplessly, sword clenched in his shaking fist, as Ghirahim_ _'s red diamond splintered and the demon was undone. This was the truth Link had unknowingly stumbled upon in their duel—that Ghirahim craved the attention of a master who saw him only as a tool, cruelly disregarding all that he otherwise was, and that he took pleasure from what little he received because the alternative could not be borne._

 _It made Link_ _'s stomach twist with disgust, and resentment. Zelda was dying or dead, and unless he could stop it, everyone he knew and loved would soon follow. He couldn't spare any more of himself to pity the demonic creature who had caused it all, not when he was already so drained. He didn't have it left in him to give._

 _Still, as Ghirahim vanished with a final gasp of hopeless mirth, slipping into the sword that his master wrenched ruthlessly out of him, Link gave that last piece of himself anyway._

" _This is Demise, the source of all monsters," Fi said as those flaming eyes focused on him. "According to tales passed down through generations, it appears differently to each person who lays eyes on it."_

 _Those eyes narrowed in a grin._

" _So, you are the chosen knight of the goddess." No mention of the demon who had served him so devotedly, as if such things were far beneath his notice. Link didn't respond. In the endless darkness, there was nothing but gleaming lines of light arcing through the air… and those eyes. "How intriguing."_

 _That fiery gaze shifted up to where Zelda still hung, suspended._

" _The goddess lowered herself to a mortal existence to keep me imprisoned," Demise scoffed. His deep voice was a disdainful rumble that nearly shook the earth with its force. "Pathetic. This bag of flesh pales in comparison to the magnificence of her previous form."_

 _And with a wave of dark power, Zelda_ _'s thin golden thread twitched wildly as rush of wind sent her flying. Link's heart stuttered and he took a step forward, but there was nothing he could do._

" _ZELDA!"_

* * *

Link woke with a start, falling off his bed with a thud and landing in a tangle of limbs and sweaty sheets. It took a moment to realize that he was in his own bedroom, battling his blanket and not the demon king, but eventually his breathing slowed to a pant. The Academy was silent aside from Fledge's soft snores, barely audible through the thin partition separating their rooms, and the chill draft seeping through his window smelled of early morning. As always, Link was the first one awake.

Hauling himself up and peeling off his damp shirt, Link hurled it irritably at his mattress. Pausing only to pull on the worn boots he left by the door each night, he slipped quietly out of his room. Opening the wide, wooden doors of the Academy, Link started to run, ignoring how the cool air made his bare skin pebble. He'd warm up soon enough.

"Hey there, Link!" Pipit called from his patrol route as Link passed. He was the only other person awake at this hour. Not for the first time, Link wondered when he slept. "Up early again, eh? Good man! Keep up the hard work!"

Link nodded, but didn't stop to talk. If he just kept moving, the nightmares that plagued his sleep would eventually fade like the bad memories they were. His feet against the ground beat out a steady rhythm that he fought to maintain, and his breathing fell naturally into place, deep and even. Slowly, the sweat and exertion burned away his agitation, until nothing remained. It wouldn't last. He could never outrun his dreams entirely… but it was enough for now.

By the time Link made it back to the Academy, he could hear creaks from the school's ancient floorboards and the soft murmur of conversation as the other students began to wake up. Still, Link wasn't finished. Retreating to his room, he dropped to the floor and began the same routine he heard Fledge grunting his way through each night: sit ups, pull ups, and an endless sequence of push ups. He didn't have the constant exertion from exploring the surface to stay in shape now, and he needed to be ready… just in case. Link's arms shook from the effort, but not as badly as they used to. Maybe Groose would let him borrow his weight set. He practically lived on the surface now, anyway.

Just as he was finishing up, Link heard familiar footsteps approaching the door. Slipping back into his sleep shirt and grimacing at the way it clung, he dove back into bed, wrapping himself in the covers. Seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

"Link?" a soft voice called, and the door creaked open. "Aren't you up yet?"

Grunting in response, he raised his head a fraction to show he was awake, and Zelda laughed. Link didn't have to see to know she was dressed and ready for the day.

"Did you fall asleep in your boots again?" she asked fondly, and he shrugged, managing a sheepish grin. "Some things never change, I guess. How did you sleep?"

"Fine," he said, stretching ostentatiously as he sat up to hide the lie in his voice. She'd been almost sleepless with worry herself at first, when he'd been more forthcoming about the visions that haunted his sleep, so now he just… didn't tell her. Zelda was happiest when she thought that nothing had changed. "What about you?"

"Hmm? Oh, I slept well." Link couldn't quite read her voice, which was unusual for him. "You're coming down to the forest after training today, right?"

Link shrugged again, then nodded. He had no reason not to.

"Great! I'm about to head down there now. I need to discuss some things with the Water Dragon." Link hid a grimace behind his pile of blankets. At least he'd be missing that particular meeting. "Eat some breakfast before you join me, okay? Oh, and make sure to take Pipit or somebody along with you. You don't have Fi to look after you anymore."

"Sure," Link said, face still hidden. Zelda stayed in the doorway for a moment as though expecting more, but eventually he heard the door click shut and her footsteps retreated down the hall. Slowly, he extracted himself from his sheets, smoothing them over his bed until there was no evidence of his restless night. Gathering his knight's uniform to change into once he'd washed up, Link paused as his hands touched the blindfold hanging neatly in his wardrobe. Link stroked the soft fabric, half-raising it as if to put it on… but then hung it back up as he did every morning, slamming the closet doors in sudden haste. Soon. He'd wear it again soon. Just not yet.

Link bathed quickly, barely allowing the hot water to take the edge off his aches before he toweled off and dressed, cinching his belt another notch tighter than he had the day before. Settling his Academy-issued sword over his back with a grimace—it was a poor substitute for what he'd grown used to, but it was all he had—he considered skipping breakfast again no matter what Zelda had said. The thought of food these days made his stomach churn, but he forced himself to grab a piece of fruit from the dining hall, dodging conversation with an apologetic smile. He might even eat it, if it would make Zelda happy.

And she _was_ happy, as far as he could tell. That's what this had all been for, wasn't it? It was what he reminded himself of, on those nights when sleep seemed far away. This was the peace he had fought for, even if he couldn't seem to find it himself.

The world was safe. Zelda was happy. Most importantly, Zelda was alive.

* * *

 _Zelda was alive._

 _Link_ _'s heart soared as Groose's words reached him. If the old Sheikah woman was right, then he hadn't failed yet. It wasn't too late to save her._

 _All he had to do was defeat Demise, a being that Hylia had abandoned her immortal form just to_ imprison _._

" _So you humans would stand before obliteration to aid the goddess, would you?" Demise said, and Link realized that he'd taken a step forward, readying himself to fight. "How curious. The humans I've known were weak things, hardly more than insects, shivering under rocks and ready to flee at a mere glimpse of me. When last I walked this world, they did little more than scream and cling to their goddess, counting on her to protect them." He laughed, a short, cruel sound, as he looked Link up and down. "How amusing to think those cowards begot something like you."_

 _Link_ _'s face heated, though he could hardly fault Demise for his amusement. The blindfold over his eyes made it clear what he was. It must have seemed like sheer audacity to be challenged by someone like him… but to his surprise, Link found that he wasn't afraid. A strange calm had fallen over Link, and with it came warm waves of power washing through him, soothing his aches and injuries until he was fully restored: a boon, he somehow knew, in exchange for his courage. The back of his right hand burned with that same holy power, and Demise's eyes bored into him._

" _You grow more fascinating by the second, human," he said. "I never imagined I'd meet one of your kind who wished to stand against me in battle. Are you certain you have the courage to face me?"_

" _I am," Link said, his voice steady, and Demise laughed again._

" _Very well, then. I shall prepare a place for us where we will not be bothered by distractions. If you fear for your life, do not follow me… but if you truly desire to raise your blade against the world I would build, come for me. I've waited eons to return. I can spare a few more moments to let you decide."_

 _The darkness surged in a spiral around Demise, and Link raised a hand to shield himself. When he lowered it, those flaming eyes were gone, but a dark crimson thread led to where they had been._

 _Link didn_ _'t hesitate. There was no time. With a deep breath, he ran forward, once more following the thread as Groose shouted encouragement after him. Darkness encased him, dragged at him… and the world and all its arcs of bright light disappeared._

" _Master Link… good luck."_

* * *

Link's days were busy, but they never felt full.

In the mornings he pestered Eagus to let him train in the Sparring Hall, leading the younger students in exercises that went beyond the old practice logs and sparring against any of the older ones who would face him. Pipit was always good for a round or two, though even he tired sooner than Link would have liked. Skyloft was a peaceful place, and despite all their training, most of the students weren't anywhere near ready for the surface. Or at least, they weren't ready for the surface as he remembered it, although things had settled down since the defeat of Demise. There was hardly a monster to be found in the forest these days. Maybe that was why nobody understood his urgency.

Eventually, Eagus sent him off with a fond pat on the shoulder and a hearty admonition to relax. "We're not fighting a war, Link! You did a good job bringing Zelda back to us, but nobody needs you wearing yourself out over nothing."

As far as Link could tell, nobody needed much of anything from him anymore.

Still, the time he spent on the surface with Zelda wasn't so bad. Fi had always reported on his surroundings with an analytical eye, intent on keeping him alive and safe for one more day. She was a weapon, after all, and her concerns were invariably practical. Now the world was at peace, and Zelda was showing him a side to the surface that he'd never had time to discover.

Hours passed to the sound of her voice explaining which trees would build the strongest houses or which herbs were good for healing, always pausing to let him feel the bark himself or smell the herbs so he could identify them later. She cared for the vast land below with the intimacy of someone who remembered its creation, and was eager to share what she knew. One day she greeted Link with a basket full of flowers and had him feel and smell each one, explaining which were medicinal, which were poisonous, and which could even be used for flavor. Another time she excitedly handed him an odd mushroom with a slash through its cap that she informed him had mild strengthening properties when eaten, although it could also be used to make a crimson dye.

"Cooking makes it less effective, though it does improve the taste," she told him, laughing when he bit into it and made a face. "They're pretty common here in the forest, but you'll occasionally find them in colder climates, too."

"You should write this down," Link told her, forcing himself to finish the mushroom and ignoring the solid lump it left in his stomach. He did feel a bit stronger, as if some of his weariness had washed away. "I never realized how much food was just lying around down here."

"Oh, I will." Zelda picked at his collar, smoothing it flat. "This used to be common knowledge before the war. The goddesses taught it all to the first mortals they created. They always intended us to live on the land, you know. Skyloft was only meant to be temporary." She hesitated. "Did you… go hungry on the surface very often?"

Link stiffened, not believing her casual tone for a second.

"No," he lied easily. "I brought food with me. It was never a problem." He'd had a lot of gear to pack, especially by the end. Sometimes it was a choice between soup and potion in his bottle, and potion almost always won out. Still, a bit of hunger was hardly the worst thing he'd faced. "I usually made it home in time for dinner."

 _The muddy earth sucked and pulled at his boots, his tunic still dripping with water, and each monster the flood had destroyed had been replaced by a hundred buzzing insects. Even the air was moist, clinging to his skin and coating his mouth with the sticky taste of decay. At this rate, he wouldn_ _'t make it to the sky until dark. He was stranded after a hard day's work without so much as cold soup for—_ no!

With an effort, Link wrenched his mind free. That was in the past now.

"Good." The relief in her voice was clear. "Hylia… I didn't realize how much knowledge would be lost over time. I would have given it to Fi if I'd known."

"Don't worry about it." Link shook his head to clear it, trying to smile reassuringly. "I'm definitely not hungry now." That much was true, at least.

"Well, I guess… a part of me is glad that I get to be the one to show it all to you." Her hand drifted to his cheek. "This is the world you helped save. I'll show it to everyone else eventually, but I thought you deserved to be the first to experience it… you know?"

Link nodded, and after a long pause, Zelda's fingers withdrew. The moment passed.

"Come on, Link. There's something else I wanted to show you."

Zelda took his hand to lead him, and Link followed, stomach souring. Every time they came to that point, he hesitated. She was still his Zelda… but she was somebody else, too, and the weight of that invisible being hung over them both.

The acrid scent of steel burned Link's nose, but he ignored it. It wasn't really there, anyway.

In the evenings, while everyone else was at dinner, Link flew. With the sharp wind rustling his hair and the warm, steady rhythm of his Loftwing's muscles moving beneath him, he felt the kind of exhilaration that his everyday life seemed less and less capable of reaching. He could remember wanting this kind of easy life, back before fate and prophecy and his love for his friend had sent him careening in another direction. Now it felt small, almost suffocating, like the depths of the cloud barrier that had once blanketed the surface.

" _What about you, Link? What will you do now?"_

Link had heard stories about heroes growing up, knights of old who had done brave and important things. None of those legends mentioned what happened to the heroes when their adventure was over, once prophecy released its grip on them and they were left to their own devices. Were those stories too boring to tell, or too sad, or a little bit of both?

It wasn't just the setting sun that eventually had Link throwing himself from his Loftwing's back. Flying gave him too much time to think, and the thought that he always arrived at was that this wasn't enough anymore.

It wasn't enough, but it was all he had… and the clouds inside advanced a little further.

* * *

 _Link footsteps splashed as he advanced, echoing endlessly into the abyss. He thought he could feel a thin layer of water coating the flat earth beneath him, a fact that Fi confirmed as he subtly tested the ground_ _'s traction with his boot. It felt firm, but he'd still have to mind his footing. At least it would be easy to hear Demise coming._

 _He could hear the beast now, circling him slowly, and Link turned to face him._

" _So you've decided to meet your end in battle after all," Demise said, and Link could hear the anticipatory grin in his voice. "It pleases me greatly to see such misplaced valor, human. Take a moment to appreciate your surroundings, for where we stand shall serve as your tomb for eternity."_

 _There wasn_ _'t much to see. Wherever Demise had taken him, the threads of light spanning the landscape had vanished. All that was left was the dark crimson line connecting him to Demise… and the brighter crimson, thinner now, attaching him to the spirit of his sword. Even Zelda's delicate thread had vanished completely, and Link spared a moment to hope that she was still alive. He had no way of knowing now._

" _The hate for the gods that has boiled in my veins…" Demise's voice darkened, his sword slicing the air with a hiss to punctuate his words. "You will taste it all in the bite of my blade. The only question left is how long you will manage to remain standing before I take your life. Try to keep it interesting for me, would you?" Link almost imagined he could hear the ghost of Ghirahim's laughter with those words, and he wondered how much the demon could see and hear in there. If he was like Fi, then everything. "When you do fall, know that your world and everything in it is mine to dominate… mine to subjugate… mine to rule!"_

 _The hair on the back of Link_ _'s neck tried to stand up, but not out of fear. The air had turned electric, prickling with power, and Link heard the crashing roar of thunder overhead._

" _It won't be long now. At last, the almighty power I've sought for millennia is in my grasp. I will take the Triforce for my own, and the world shall be under my foot for eternity!"_

 _Demise swung his enormous sword with a roar, and Link_ _'s shield deflected the strike with a gong-like peal. He gritted his teeth at the force of the blow, but raised his shield again to defend against another blow, and another one. Demise was powerful and fast, a dangerous combination, but Link would tire himself out quickly it he was constantly defending, and his enchanted shield could only take so much. His only hope was to use Demise's power against him, and overwhelm him when he was off balance. With the power of the Triforce still thrumming through him, he hoped he'd have the strength to succeed._

 _Grunting at the strength of Demise_ _'s next blow, Link parried his strike, and attacked._

* * *

It was Zelda who reminded him of the carvings he used to make when they were younger, reminiscing over the childhood they'd spent together long before a tornado sent from the surface changed the course of their lives forever.

People had always been astonished by the accuracy of his little statuettes, but that was because most of them only looked with their eyes. If he could feel a thing, he could sculpt it, and Link had spent hours with a piece of wood and a carving knife, working steadily to make sense of the unseen world around him. Zelda had loved to watch him work, appointing herself to the task of painting the little figures when he was done with them. He couldn't see the finishing splash of color, of course, but had appreciated it nonetheless.

In a desperate attempt to fill the hours with anything other than his own thoughts, Link took up the hobby once more. The level of concentration required was just enough that he could work for hours without thinking. Most of what he'd come across on his journeys couldn't be carved—he'd never fully examined a kikwi, for instance, or goddess forbid a bokoblin—so instead he found himself replicating the things that Zelda showed him. Little wooden mushroom caps and flower blossoms gathered in piles on his desk until it must have looked like a tiny piece of the forest had taken over.

Zelda clapped her hands when she saw them all.

"Ooh, Link, they're so pretty!" she said, then hesitated. "Would you… let me paint them for you?"

"Are you sure you have the time?" Link asked. The plans for expansion were coming together quickly now, and Zelda was the driving force behind it all. Link helped out as best he could, telling the other knights what he'd learned of the creatures and monsters already inhabiting the surface, but some tasks were best left to others and he knew it.

"Of course," she insisted. "It'll be just like old times."

And so they began a new routine. Every morning when she came to wake him up, Zelda would bring him a freshly painted figure, and he would give her his newest creation. Sometimes she sat with him as he worked, watching him with a silence he couldn't begin to interpret, but usually he worked alone, carving late into the night until he became too tired and clumsy to hold a knife. Darkness was no hindrance to him, and he preferred it to the hours that would have been spent tossing sleeplessly in bed.

Still, it was weeks before he finally carved the one figure that had haunted his fingertips every time he considered a block of wood.

Link was exhausted. Even Fledge was asleep, softly snoring in the room next door after his grueling nightly workout, but somehow Link couldn't manage to do the same. Every time he almost nodded off, his head jolted up with a feeling of dread, unwilling to face another night of troubled sleep. It was humiliating after all he'd already faced. He'd been sure that enough time would fix this, but the nightmares still hadn't gone away. If anything, they were worse now.

In a fit of frustration, Link threw his pillow across the room, and heard the crash of falling wood. Fledge's snores subsided for a moment before resuming their steady rhythm, and Link sighed, hauling himself out of bed to retrieve it. Feeling around for where it had fallen, Link's hands came across an uncarved block of wood, and he paused, turning it over in his hands. Abruptly, he stood, forgetting the fallen pillow and stumbling to the desk where he kept his carving knife. Running from his thoughts wasn't helping. It was time to confront them.

For the first time, Link forced himself to remember that strange night in the forest without shrinking away, his knife moving in short, quick strokes. He would never know why Ghirahim had decided to corner him that night. Maybe Link really was his guilty pleasure, as he'd told him once before, or maybe the demon had just wanted to scare him. If so, it had worked. Link's heart beat faster just at the memory. He'd been sure he was about to be captured and tortured, or killed, but instead…

Link sculpted his face as he remembered it, and felt again the smooth ridge of his brow under his trembling fingers, those thin, smirking lips, the mismatched ears and sleek sweep of hair, all unnaturally cold and hard compared to a human's features. By contrast, his breath had been hot and steely on Link's face, as if the fire that forged his sword still burned at his core. Link had never asked to know Ghirahim so intimately, hadn't wanted it, but now the feel of the demon was embedded on his skin. Everything he'd experienced since the war's end felt lost in a sea of clouds compared to those few, heart-pounding moments of _life._ It was ridiculous to miss the strength of his fear, his terror, and yet…

He carved in a trance, not noticing the passing of time.

It was the eerie hour between morning and night when he finished, clearing the last of the wooden shavings away with his thumb. Link turned the bust over in his hands, tracing the curve of its lips and the sharp cut of his hair. He had hoped he would feel better, that acknowledging what had happened would bring some kind of closure, but if anything he felt more conflicted.

"You're dead," Link said wearily to the figure in his hands. He had to be. He would have come for Link by now if he wasn't. "Just let me go."

But as he finally drifted off into his first dreamless sleep in weeks, head settling against the desk, Link imagined he could hear distant, disbelieving laughter. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

* * *

 _Victory would not come easily._

 _Panting, Link glared at his opponent as droplets of water streaked down his face. The thin layer of water they battled on had at first been an annoyance, splashing up at him with every jump or pivoting step and slowly soaking him through. Then the lightning started to fall, and Link realized that it was more than just a nuisance. With electricity arcing through the air around him, this water was potentially deadly._

" _Master, I can confirm it is possible for Demise to store the electrical energy of a lightning strike in his sword and use it to his advantage," Fi told him, and Link nodded. He had felt the force of the strike, and could hear Demise's sword crackling with power. "It is essential that you time your attacks carefully. Very carefully."_

 _Demise moved suddenly with quick force, and Link barely raised his shield in time to catch the blow. The electrified sword stung so close to his face, but soon the energy dissipated against Link_ _'s shield, which hummed as the enchanted metal struggled to repair itself. Link parried the blow with one of his own, and Demise stepped back with a short laugh. They both knew that if that shield failed before their battle ended, Link was dead._

 _Link struck again and again, using all of the swift agility he_ _'d learned from battling Ghirahim, but Demise blocked him with brutal efficiency. It seemed impossible for someone so large to move so fast, but he wasn't even breathing hard. Demise was the stronger and faster of them, and he knew it. No doubt he considered defeating Link a diversion, a small way to spit in the goddess's face before destroying the rest of her people._

 _One of Link_ _'s failed strikes left him exposed, and he cried out as the tip of Demise's sword cut through his chainmail, scoring his side. Gritting his teeth, Link caught the next strike on his shield, pushing through the pain. If they continued like this, Link would lose. There had to be a way to tip the scales, to turn things to his advantage…_

… _And as his skin tingled and the air pulsed once more with building energy, he realized that maybe there was._

 _Link gripped the hilt of his sword, readying himself to jump. This could either turn things around or kill him, but he had to risk it. It worked for Demise. It should work for him, as well._

 _As the charge in the air reached its tipping point, Demise raised his sword to gather it in_ _… and Link jumped, thrusting his sword higher. Lightning struck, charging the Master Sword with its fierce power, and Link swung triumphantly before Demise could react, slicing him across his chest._

 _Demise roared, driven to one knee by the lightning_ _'s force, but brought his sword up to block Link when he tried to finish him off. Ghirahim would have said something then, a curse or a quip, but Demise just glared with burning hatred. He was angry now, those eyes intent on murder, but Link felt new hope surging through him. Demise was not invincible after all, and Link was going to prove it._

 _With a defiant yell, Link raised his sword and called down the lightning once more._

* * *

"I think we should settle close to the temple," Groose said to the small group of knights assembled in a cluster. A makeshift table had been assembled in Hylia's ancient temple, and it served as a hub of sorts as plans for expansion on the surface were finalized. "There's plenty of wood for building here, and a good source of water."

"There are so many trees, though," Karane interjected. "It would take forever to clear it all out. If we just move a little further to the south—" there was the rustling of paper as maps were jostled around, "—then the land opens up into an enormous field. I think that's our best bet."

"That would be easier for farming…" Pipit mused, and Link heard his fingers drum against the table. "But we'd have to haul in our supplies."

"We can't go too far from the temple," Zelda said firmly, and everyone stopped talking to listen. "We need people to stay and watch over the Triforce and the Master Sword. I've already spoken with the Water Dragon, and she agrees. We will have the land we need, so long as we still leave room for the Kikwis."

"Zelda's right," Groose said, surprising no one. "I say we start out in the forest, see how it goes, and expand from there. We're not afraid of a little hard work, right Link?" Link gave him an absent thumbs up. "Kina might be interested in taking some that farmland once we're all settled in."

"We'll want to get those crops in the ground sooner rather than later, though," Karane said. "Unless you intend to live on mushrooms. If only…"

Link leaned against the temple wall nearby to give those at the table space to see, trying to at least appear to be paying attention. It should have been exciting to see these plans come so close to fruition, but like most things these days the emotion felt dim, wrapped up in that sea of clouds. He sometimes thought that life had become a silent realm, only a pale imitation of what it once was… or else _he_ was the hazy reflection in a world that had no place for him anymore. Maybe this was all a dream, and Link would wake up high in a tree somewhere, still with Fi, still on his quest for the Triforce while Ghirahim lurked unseen on the surface.

…The prospect should not have been so appealing.

"Could you really build something like that?" Link heard Pipit ask, and Groose flared up at the doubt in his voice.

"Of course I could! You never saw the Groosenator. Threw Link up on that big old beast like he was nothing."

"Fine, I believe you! That still leaves us the problem of…"

Maybe it was time to admit that the war had changed him more than he would have liked. He didn't miss the violence, or the blood—he'd woken up more times than he could count with the scent of _so much blood_ heavy in his nostrils, from battles already past and battles yet to come—but at least he'd had a sense of purpose. He had wielded Fi, it was true, strengthening her blade until it was strong enough to do what was required, but in a similar way the goddess had wielded _him_ as well. He had become Hylia's weapon, forged in the fires of his trials to retrieve the Triforce and vanquish Demise. Now that was over, and he felt about as useful as any weapon would in times of peace.

When Fi had fulfilled her task, she'd been allowed to quietly fade away. Now, Link realized, he was starting to do the same.

"…two settlements? I don't know, it doesn't seem…"

Link gave up pretending and closed his eyes.

Fi's mission had been the entirety of her world, her sole purpose for existing, but Link didn't think she'd _wanted_ it the way humans wanted things. The goddess hadn't left much room in her for any emotions, including desire. It had just been something she needed to do. Maybe that was why she'd had to leave in the end, and why Link had to stay. He was a human, and not a creation of metal. Eventually, he might readapt to his old life. The clouds would lift, and he would learn to feel things that weren't so… sharp.

Ghirahim, though… he had craved his own use. His disturbing ecstasy at the hands of Demise had made that clear. Had it been the goddess's mercy that compelled her to save Fi from becoming so human? Or had Demise's love of power and subjugation been so great that he'd created his own servant specifically to be used and controlled in such a way, knowing that a weapon's desires would be a terrible thing?

Either way, Link could no longer hate Ghirahim, even if his malignant presence still lingered like a hovering knife. He understood him too well for that.

"No… not safe…"

Link frowned as a fragment of conversation reached him. Their voices had lowered so that most people wouldn't be able to hear them, but his ears were sharp.

"…with the bokoblin problem… shouldn't risk it…"

"What bokoblin problem?" Link asked, and conversation ceased. He couldn't understand why the silence felt so awkward.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep standing," Zelda said eventually with a laugh. "You were so exhausted this morning, I almost couldn't wake you."

"What bokoblin problem?" Link repeated, unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword before catching himself. The clouds were lifting. He felt like he was taking his first breath in weeks. "You said there hadn't been any monster sightings."

"'Problem' is kind of a strong word for it." Zelda sounded the same as she had years before, when she'd been trying to hide his broken toy Loftwing. She hadn't been a good liar then, either. "We've started to see a couple here or there, but it's nothing to worry about."

"If it's nothing to worry about, why would it threaten the settlers?" he asked, frowning.

She didn't answer.

"Just tell him, Zelda," Groose said, and Link stiffened.

"Groose, no—"

"Yes," he said firmly, defying Zelda for the first time in Link's memory. "It's been long enough. He deserves to know."

"Tell me what?" Link asked, his heartbeat loud in his own ears.

"…Monster activity has actually been increasing over the past month or so," Karane said when Zelda remained quiet. "Just a few rogue bands of bokoblins, but we haven't been able to wipe them out just yet. We've been holding them off okay, though they took a good slice out of Pipit the other day. At least they haven't had the guts to attack the temple yet."

"I might not have made it at all if you hadn't been pushing me to train so often, Link, so I guess I should thank you for that," Pipit said, aiming for his usual hearty tone and missing it completely. "That was the day we discovered they had archers."

"I could have told you that," Link said, and he had no response. Turning to face Zelda, Link tried to look her in the eye. He had to ask, even if the prospect filled him with an inexpressible dread. "I should have been fighting with them. Why did you hide it?"

"Link…" Zelda hesitated. "I was going to tell you soon. I just wanted to give you a chance to recover without having to worry about all this. You've been through a lot already, and I thought you deserved a little peace."

"It's been months," Link argued, voice rising. "I've had plenty of time. If there's something threatening the settlement, I think I deserve to know."

At a murmured word from Groose, the other three knights retreated as Zelda came closer.

"Listen," she said quietly, toying with his collar as she'd recently taken to doing. "I worry about you. Pipit says you've been training hard, and I do appreciate it, but you don't have Fi to help you anymore—"

A sudden white roar filled his ears.

"—and if anything happened to you, I don't think I could bear it—"

Like Ghirahim, like everyone else, she'd decided that he was useless without his sword. Without Fi.

"—I couldn't ask anything more of you, not after what I've already required—"

How many people knew, and hadn't told him? The other knights must have laughed to see him training so hard, knowing that Zelda didn't trust him with so much as a bokoblin anymore… only Link knew they hadn't been laughing, and that made it even worse.

"—and I know it's probably selfish of me to pass the burden on to others, but I just want you to be safe."

No, the worst part was that she didn't even realize what she'd done. Hylia had made him into a weapon, and now Zelda had decided he was too broken to use. What if he was? Had Pipit and the others been going easy on him all this time?

"Could you do that for me, Link? Please?"

Her voice trembled. Link's heartbeat thundered.

He almost said yes, so ingrained was his desire to keep Zelda happy, but the sting of betrayal was too strong. Fury and shame pierced the clouds surrounding him, razor-sharp after the numb detachment he'd been drowning in, and he lashed out. Link could forgive the goddess for her manipulations and would forgive Zelda for doing the same, but she couldn't have it both ways. If she wasn't his friend, if they weren't equals, then she was the goddess, plain and simple.

Removing her hands and stepping back, Link sank into a low bow, hand over heart, and Zelda's breath caught. He'd known her all his life, and knew exactly where to strike.

"In this, as in all things," he said, cold anger belying his words, "I am the goddess's servant."

He stormed out of the temple without waiting for a response, if she had one to give. Link could feel his Loftwing hovering nearby, and he whistled long and hard, calling him from the sky. Sensing his mood, the bird descended with a loud cry, settling to the earth, and Link vaulted onto his back in an easy, practiced motion. With a gentle kick to its sides, the Loftwing took off, and Link felt the goddess and the surface and all of its cares and demons fall away.

* * *

 _Link knew when he had struck the finishing blow._

 _He could feel it in the way Demise went rigid, stiffening beneath him as Link_ _'s sword pierced his chest. A final bolt of lightning struck the ground nearby, and the sky fell still. Pulling his sword free, Link vaulted back as Demise shifted beneath him, facing the beast warily._

 _With labored breath, Demise pulled himself up, driving his sword into the ground for support_ _… and with a metallic sigh, the red thread between Link and the sword snapped, rebounding into him with a force more spiritual than physical. Link's mouth fell open in horror as realization hit him. Just like that, without so much as a laugh or a whisper, Ghirahim… was gone._

" _Extraordinary. You stand as a paragon of your kind, human." Link's attention riveted back on Demise. His words were a low, pained rumble, but that fiery gaze stayed fixated on Link. "You fight like no man or demon I have ever known… but this is not the end."_

" _It is," Link found himself saying, triumph unfurling inside him. Against all odds, he'd done it. "You've lost, demon king. It's over." Finally, the world was safe. He and Zelda could settle down together, in peace. Link wanted to laugh._

 _Demise_ did _laugh then, the barest breath of a mocking chuckle, and the reckless joy rising within him dimmed._

" _Perhaps. But my hate… never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end. I will rise again!"_

 _The dark thread connecting them firmed, pulsing steadily brighter. Even as Link watched with uneasy fascination, the thread grew, thickening until it was the size of a rope. No, not a single thread, now. It was hundreds of threads, thousands of them, growing ever brighter, binding Link and the monster together with unbreakable strength._

 _He should have torn off the blindfold then, but he didn_ _'t know._

 _He didn_ _'t know._

" _Those like you… those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero… they are eternally bound to this curse."_

 _More lines of light connected them, so many that Link didn_ _'t know how his vision could contain them all. Demise intoned the words with dark promise, speaking with a strength he should not have had, as if his curse directed the very weave of fate… and suddenly, Link realized that this was exactly what Demise was doing. These were the threads of destiny itself, forming a great, unknowable tapestry of prophecy and fate. The pattern it formed went far beyond Link's sight, encompassing gods and goddesses and those who had created them… only now Link could feel the weave shifting, warping as a perfect triangle formed at its center, setting the base for a new pattern: Link and Demise and Zelda, bound together for eternity. The gleaming threads shone, burned with the light of a small sun, and Link threw up a hand that did nothing to block its light._

 _Demise_ _'s voice raged on._

" _An incarnation of my hatred shall ever follow your kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all time!"_

 _And in that moment Link saw them all, each of their clashes, all at once. In some of their fights Demise was almost human, while in others he was a raging beast. Link and Zelda knew each other, loved each other, or they didn_ _'t. Sometimes Link won, and the darkness was kept at bay for hundreds of years… but when he lost, the world paid the price for his failure in blood. Always, the blight of Demise threatened the world, and always Link rose to meet it, still young but with the blood of a hundred battles already behind him._

 _It was too much. Brandishing his sword and yelling as if he could fight off the onslaught of sight, Link clawed at the blindfold with his only free hand as Demise_ _'s laughter rang around him, engulfing him. Finally, Link managed to clench the fabric in his fist and tear it free, and merciful darkness descended. In that moment, he was glad to be blind._

 _Demise died laughing. Link shuddered as the remainder of his essence was absorbed into his sword. Already, the details of what he_ _'d seen were fading, too great for any mortal mind to contain for long, but he remembered enough. Link had struck a powerful blow, containing the darkness at a crucial moment and saving the world from destruction, but this was just the first of many battles that would make up an incomprehensibly long war._

" _I have confirmed the eradication of the demon king." Fi's lilting voice was, as always, cool and crystal calm._

 _Link desperately wished it was true._

* * *

Late that night, there was a knock on Link's door, but for once the person on the other side didn't immediately let herself in.

"Come in," Link called after a moment, not bothering to turn around. He knew Zelda's walk as well as he knew her voice. The door opened slowly.

"Hey there," she said, shutting the door behind her with a heavy 'click' and coming to stand beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Link said truthfully. He sat on the edge of his bed where he'd been since the sun went down, running his silken blindfold through his hands over and over again. He knew Zelda had to notice, but she didn't mention it. Instead, he heard the scrape of wood on his desk.

"Link," she said, sounding more than a little unnerved. She had found the carving. "Did you make this?"

Link nodded shortly, slipping the long piece of cloth into his pocket.

"This… this is a very good likeness."

"Thank you," he said, and she let out a short, irritated breath.

"No, what I'm trying to say is, when… how did you…?" Even then she couldn't get the words out, but he knew what she meant. He should not have known Ghirahim well enough to carve his face.

"Does it matter?" Link asked, the weight of exhaustion drawing his shoulders down. "I killed him. Nothing happened, anyway." Nothing but the permanent of feel of the demon on his fingers, like a thin metallic slick of oil.

Zelda stayed quiet for so long, Link almost thought she might let it go. Then she sighed.

"When are you going to start telling me the truth?"

He blinked.

"What?" he said incredulously. "You're here to lecture _me_ on honesty?"

"No. I'm here to apologize for what I said about Fi." Link tensed. It wasn't what he'd expected. "I don't doubt your abilities and I never have… and I know how much her loss must have hurt you. I'm sorry she couldn't stay."

Link nodded, throat tight.

"And… the other?" he asked, and Zelda hesitated.

"No," she said finally, to his surprise. "I'm sorry that I tried to deceive you, but I think I made the right decision."

"It wasn't your call to make," Link said, voice tinged with bitterness. Was she already backing out of her apology? "If you think I can do it, then why try to stop me?"

"Link… you can't see yourself." Suddenly, she sounded as exhausted as he felt, and she sank onto the bed next to him, the stiff mattress barely indenting under her weight. "You've grown so thin that people ask me every day if you're okay, and I don't know what to tell them. You have permanent shadows under your eyes. Pipit tells me that you're up before the sun every morning." Link grimaced. Of course he'd told her. "I don't think you eat and I don't think you sleep, but you work yourself to the bone. Sometimes I talk to you, and it's like you're not there. Maybe you can't feel it, but you're sick, Link. As the goddess, I would never have sent a man out to battle in your condition."

Link flinched. There was no blame in her voice, but he felt it anyway, if only from himself. Was he really so obvious? Everything he'd been trying to hide or deny was now laid unavoidably bare. Link had won his battle, but was failing at peace.

"It still should have been my choice," Link muttered. "I'm not made of glass."

Zelda's laugh was despairing.

"Neither am I! I want to help, but I can't if you keep trying to protect me. The way you tell it, you took a nice little stroll across the surface, and then Demise tripped and fell on his own sword. It's like dragging a Loftwing around trying to get anything else out of you. Would… would you rather talk to Pipit? Or Groose?" Her voice shook, and Link realized how close she was to tears. "I don't have to be the one to help you, I guess. I just want you to be happy."

Link almost laughed. It was his own wish for her, reflected back. He hadn't realized how much strain and worry hid behind her light-hearted facade. All this time, they'd both been pretending for the other's sake. She'd just been better at it than he was.

But this was something he didn't know how to fix. Maybe he _was_ sick, sick in his mind. He had to be. Why else would he rather fall to the surface and attack those bokoblins himself than sit here and talk to anybody about what he'd been through? He did miss Fi, but not only for the reasons Zelda thought. He'd never had to put things into words with Fi. She'd been with him for almost all of his journeys, and what she hadn't seen, she just… knew.

Link reached for Zelda's hand, and found the little statue still clutched tightly in her fingers. Always, Ghirahim stood between him and Zelda, even now that he was gone. Maybe there was a way to banish his presence… for good.

Hesitantly, Link raised his hands and, when Zelda made no move to stop him, placed them gently on her face.

Her skin was warm, like he'd expected it to be, and softly yielding. Link traced his thumbs tenderly along her rounded cheekbones before running his fingers through her trimmed bangs, not sleek and impossibly smooth but thick and full. Fingering the gentle point of her ears, he followed them back around to the curving slope of her jaw. Her lips trembled almost imperceptibly under his fingers, and her warm breath exhaled lightly through her nose. A hot tear fell from her eye, landing on Link's hand, and his heart ached.

Zelda was familiar and soft. She was home… but it wasn't enough. His nose was still full of the sharp scent of steel, his hands roaming across skin too hard and smooth to be human. Someone grabbed his wrists and he froze, forgetting for a moment where he was.

"Stop," Zelda whispered, and Link took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. He hadn't realized how desperate his grip had become.

"I need some time," he said, and she gave a small, wavering laugh.

"Of course. As much as you need. I'll be here waiting."

He waited for Zelda to leave before unfolding the blindfold once more, smoothing it out across his lap. There had never been a body, not even a broken sword. Nothing Link could point at to show that Ghirahim had ever existed, much less that he was dead. Link had said it often enough, had told himself and others that the demon had perished in the fight with Demise, all while avoiding the only way he had of finding out for sure.

As time passed and the dark sword never resurfaced, Link had thought that maybe it didn't matter. If Ghirahim was alive and wanted to leave him alone, Link should be more than happy to let him… except that in a way, he had never left. In all the vast land below, there was not a single place left untainted by the demon's presence. The forest, with their first battle in the temple, where for reasons unknown Ghirahim had let him live… the desert, where Link finally managed to thwart him at the Gate of Time… and the volcano, with all that had transpired there. In Zelda's temple, Ghirahim had stolen her away just when Link thought his quest was over, and reveled in Link's despair. Buried now beneath immovable tons of stone and dirt was the site where they had fought their final, ruthless battle.

Link wrapped the soft cloth around his eyes, tying it off with shaking hands. If Ghirahim was dead, then at least he'd know. He could move on, make peace with this quiet life, and wait until the next one called him to battle once more.

And if he wasn't…

Link watched, barely breathing, as one by one the lights appeared. Arcing across the sky, unhindered by stone and mortar, those threads of fate promised meetings and events Link couldn't even imagine. Gold blossomed from his own chest, his fated connection to Zelda shining and sure—they were tied through the ages as surely as he and Demise, a small blessing to counter the curse—but still he waited. Long moments passed, but no new threads appeared.

Then, a long crimson thread shimmered to life, tied to his heart and leading him down, and Link knew he was going to follow.


	9. Chapter 9

Rumors of this story's demise have been greatly exaggerated. Some readers thought the last chapter I posted was the ending, and while I see now how you may have thought this and truly appreciate how kind you all were about it, I really never intended to go the open-ending route with this story. I've put Link through too much crap for that. If you're a fan of that kind of thing, then feel free to ignore the coming chapters. If not, read on XD

* * *

Early the next morning, Link woke up hungry.

It was an effort not to take double helpings at breakfast, but he restrained himself to some bread and a piece of fruit, with another slipped into his pocket for later. His body had grown used to very little food, and if the day's events led to a fight, he couldn't afford to be weighed down. There was no way of knowing where that red thread would lead him, or how the spirit holding the other end would react to being found.

They had managed to part ways without crossing swords before. Link hoped they could do so again.

Still, there were monsters to consider, as well as the land itself. As soon as the first tents opened, Link was in the bazaar, restocking his potion supply for the first time in weeks. The impatient woman who ran the shop wasn't half as brusque as she usually was, and Link uncomfortably recalled Zelda's words from the night before. Did he really look so ill? On the other hand, Peatrice greeted him with the same determined disinterest she'd shown him ever since he'd rebuffed her affections, which was oddly reassuring.

"Here's your item," she droned, handing over the small, mechanical beetle she'd been keeping for him. In Fi's absence, it could be a handy little tool for exploring the terrain. "Come back whenever you need a reminder of all that you're missing out on.

Link took it, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

Settling his newly filled pouches around his waist and tightly securing his blindfold, Link suddenly found no more reason to delay. He'd halfway expected that someone would try to stop him by now. For the first time in weeks, Zelda hadn't come to wake him, and Link didn't seek her out, a part of him knowing how little it would take to dissuade him from this course. He had hardly dared to acknowledge his plans even to himself, afraid that prodding them with conscious thought would pierce that fragile bubble of anticipation building up inside him. Only now that his preparations were complete did he start to consider the consequences of today's expedition.

Then he imagined life continuing on as it had… and sprinted to the edge of the island, pushing off the wooden planks into the open sky and whistling for his Loftwing.

Sensing his single-minded focus, the bird traveled swiftly, following the crimson thread like an arrow through the sky under Link's practiced hands. His Loftwing sent impressions as they flew, simple thoughts and feelings that Link's mind translated into words. Joy. Clear skies. A small grouping of islands to the left, growing sparser the further they flew from Skyloft. A larger island, far to the right. Affection. Concern.

Patting the bird's neck to reassure him, Link suppressed the unease that his Loftwing had picked up on. He had wandered this way before in his aimless flights, but never to visit the surface, and he had no idea what lay beneath. For all he knew, Ghirahim had hidden himself away in a fortress, or a river of lava. He could have surrounded himself with armies of Bokoblins, and Link would never know until it was too late.

This was a foolish risk, and he knew it. He should have brought Zelda or Groose… though on second thought, neither of them were the best choice if he hoped for a peaceful resolution. Pipit would be better, or even Fledge. It was pure hubris to take his first solo trip to the surface without Fi in an unfamiliar area. He should turn back.

He urged the bird on.

Finally, after what felt like ages but couldn't have been longer than an hour, Link reined in his Loftwing. The other end of the thread lay directly beneath him. If he aimed his descent well, he would land mere paces away.

"This is it," Link muttered. He hadn't left a note to explain where he'd gone, worried that someone would follow. If he died down there, Zelda would think he'd just disappeared. He should have left a note. "Stay nearby, okay? I'll need you to take me home."

His Loftwing responded with a low cry, and Link gave him another pat, undoing the belt on his safety harness. Before he could change his mind, Link jumped, something like hope welling painfully inside him as he plunged to the surface with a wild yell. No turning back now.

The air that whipped around him was thin, and grew colder by the second. The force of that bitter wind cut like a knife, pushing tears from Link's eyes as he fell. This was nothing like the warm embrace of Lanayru Desert or Eldin Volcano, or even the more temperate Faron Woods. This was cold like he'd never felt in his life.

Link deployed his sailcloth early, unnerved to find this part of the surface already so different from what he knew, and was shocked when his boots made contact only seconds later. He stumbled at the unexpected impact, but lurched back in surprise when he landed on something wet and cold that crunched beneath his weight. His heart hammered as he realized just how close he'd come to unknowingly crashing into the earth. Exhilarated laughter erupted from his lips, and he clamped a hand around his mouth in dismay. For once, the clouds in his mind had scattered, replaced by cold clarity.

He tilted his head, listening.

Only his own ragged breathing broke the silence of the mountain peak. The pile of _something_ he'd landed in made no move, and Link decided after a moment that it was probably harmless, though very cold. A handful of it fell down his shirt as he stood, and Link shuddered as it melted against his skin, leaving damp patches on his undershirt. Zelda had mentioned something like this during their hours together, but he hadn't always been listening. Was it all just frozen water?

As the adrenaline faded from his near-fatal fall, Link shivered uncontrollably in the buffeting wind. The air was so cold it stung, and he wrapped himself in Zelda's sailcloth for an added layer of warmth. Link had thought he'd prepared for everything, but he'd never expected cold like this. The uncovered tips of his fingers were already going numb.

Although the descent hadn't gone as smoothly as planned, the red thread still beckoned, ending only fifty paces away. Link followed it with a growing sense of disquiet, unsheathing his sword to feel ahead as he walked. Had Ghirahim missed his fall, or was he watching him now… waiting?

Climbing up through piles of frozen water was slow work. Every now and then his foot slipped, and he had to scramble to avoid sliding all the way back. Before he reached the thread's end, Link's sword clanged against something hard, and he groped forward blindly to find a sheer face of rock barring his path. Ghirahim must be inside of the mountain, likely in a cave somewhere. Link could still go back to Skyloft and return when he was better prepared, preferably with a warm, thick coat.

Instead, he walked sideways along the rock face, searching carefully with his hands for an opening. The icy wind cut through his clothes like they were nothing, and he knew he didn't have long before he'd have to admit defeat, but he couldn't leave without trying.

Finally, the rock wall opened up beneath his fingers, and Link stepped cautiously into a cave, testing the ground in front of him with a string of echoing taps from his sword. The air still stung, but his shivering died down now that the wind couldn't reach him. A series of familiar squeaks made him stop, tracking the sounds warily with his ears before striking out three times with quick precision. His sword made contact with three small creatures that squealed shrilly before they died. The shelter must have attracted the Keese, as well.

His eyes fixed on the thread's end, and he walked slowly forward, still tapping, until the ground beneath his sword fell away and he was forced to a halt. That red light was so tantalizingly close now, only a few paces away.

"Ghirahim," Link said hoarsely, licking his lips as the name echoed back to him in the enclosed space. His heart fluttered uncertainly. Now that he'd made it this far, he was less certain than ever why he'd come. "I know you're here."

Not so much as a light chuckle met his ears. Link's brow furrowed.

"Well?" he demanded, annoyance starting to break through his nerves. "Is that it? Every other time we've met, you wouldn't shut up."

Nothing. Link gritted his teeth. Out of everything he'd thought might happen, he hadn't expected to be ignored. Could he be mistaken? He couldn't hear Ghirahim, but that didn't mean anything. The demon could expertly avoid his detection when he wanted to.

"Answer me!" Link demanded, chest heaving with something close to panic, but there was still no response.

Link shivered again, rubbing his hands together.

"This was a bad idea," he muttered, turning to leave. He couldn't be wrong. That thread had led him here, which meant that there must be someone else in this cavern… or maybe… some _thing_?

He stopped. Turning back again slowly, Link stooped low to the ground, fingers scrabbling along the rock for a few loose pebbles. Straightening again and trying not to feel foolish, he threw the first pebble at waist height, listening intently, and heard it strike something that sounded like stone. He threw the second rock slightly higher and heard the same noise, but the third flew for longer before skittering across a flat surface, eventually coming to a stop with a metallic _clink_ as it hit something—a sword, he realized with a hitched breath.

Link readjusted his mental map of the place. Ghirahim was not standing across from him as he'd originally assumed. Instead, Link faced a raised stone outcropping with the demon's sword lying atop it, either sleeping or…

"Ghirahim," he said again, not expecting a response this time though his voice rang throughout the cavern. Even in this form, the demon must know he was there. If he could still respond, why didn't he?

Unbidden, the memory of Demise wrenching the sword from Ghirahim's chest resurfaced, and Link suddenly thought to wonder why Ghirahim had sequestered himself away on this lonely mountain top if he could have gone literally anywhere else. Fi could never move her own sword. Maybe Ghirahim was the same now, trapped in this cave by his large, lifeless weapon.

The frosty air bit at his face. This speculation was beyond pointless. Zelda might have understood the magic involved, but Link certainly didn't. Either way, Ghirahim seemed unlikely to bother him or anyone else now. Link could fly home, maybe warm up by a fire, and forget about this cold, desolate cavern.

Instead, he knelt down and pulled out his beetle.

A quick check with his hands confirmed that he stood on a ledge of indetermined depth. He released the beetle forward, timing its flight carefully in his mind until it crashed into the other side. It wasn't a long jump, but it would be an awkward one. He'd have to catch onto the ledge and pull himself up. At the press of a button the beetle zipped back, and he aimed it down this time, straight into the crevice. With any luck, he would find it was just a short drop… but the receiver in his hands began to shake before it hit the bottom, and he was forced to recall the small contraption. A long way to fall, then, and no saying whether his sailcloth would work in such a narrow area.

Link stored the beetle again, heart thumping. Ignoring the more rational part of his mind that told him this was crazy, he backed up carefully, measuring his paces. There would be no Fi signaling him to jump, and no Ghirahim to save him if he fell. He had only himself.

He should have left that note.

Link took a deep, steadying breath, icy air filling his lungs… and ran, taking long, precise leaps forward. _Three_ _… two… one… now!_

He jumped, arms flailing, and realized he'd misjudged when his torso rammed into the ledge and the air was knocked out of him. Dazed and struggling for breath, Link started to slide backwards and panicked, fumbling for a grip on the smooth rock surface. His right hand grasped something hard and sharp, and Link cried out as cold metal bit into his skin, halting his fall. He'd managed to grab hold of the dark blade itself, thrust point first into the stone. Fighting the instinct to let go, Link tightened his grip, hissing as the sword cut deeper into his skin. Pulling himself up by the blade, he collapsed onto his stomach, panting and shivering, cheek pressed against the cold stone. Saved by Ghirahim's sword. If the demon could see him now, he must be laughing.

Gritting his teeth against a moan of pain, Link peeled his hand from the sword with a wince to examine the damage, wiggling his fingers tentatively. Hot blood pooled inside his gauntlet, stinging after such frigid cold. Fishing out a red potion awkwardly with his left hand, he took a deep, long swig. It was a small injury, one he wouldn't usually waste potion on, but he needed the use of his sword hand. Within moments, he felt a familiar tingle along his fingers and palm as they healed, and for some reason in the tips of his ears. Those weren't injured, were they? His ears had burned with the cold at first, but they'd long since gone numb.

The sword beside him said nothing, did nothing, and Link sighed wearily.

"What am I doing here?" he said aloud, not sure if he was addressing Ghirahim or himself or the uncaring surface itself. Even if the demon had been here in all his former glory, what would confronting him have achieved? Coming here had accomplished nothing. Life at home felt like… nothing. His face contorted. What more did he have to do for the goddesses to grant him a bit of peace?

 _What are_ _… doing here, sky child?_

Link stopped breathing. The voice was so faint he could almost believe he'd imagined it, but then…

… _you really… all this way… find me?_

Scrambling to his knees so quickly that he almost tore open his newly healed hand, Link stared at the crimson light tying his heart to the sword's hilt. The words faded in and out, not all of them reaching his ears, but they were there.

… _must say… never expected… your blood again…_

 _Blood_ , he thought dizzily, realizing how his life force must have run down the sword's blade. The bleeding had stopped, but Link ran his hand frantically along the flat of the blade anyway, smearing what little was left. He couldn't say whether time or his frenzied efforts made the difference, but Ghirahim's voice grew slightly louder.

 _Poor Link_ _… just been wasting away, haven't…_

It still wasn't enough. Grimacing, Link gave in and carefully sliced the palm of his non-dominant hand on the sword this time, barely flinching as the blood dripped down. The voice immediately became stronger.

 _Peace does not agree with you, little hero. You look dreadful._

"You're not doing so great, yourself," Link rasped, and finally he heard that low, familiar laugh echo in his ears. Maybe it was because the demon obviously posed no threat now, but his thrill at the sound was the furthest thing from fear.

 _So how did a blind little bird like you track me all the way out here? I suppose your adorable little goddess must have brought you_. Echoing and sourceless as the words seemed, Ghirahim still managed to imbue them with scorn. _Are you here to bring me to justice?_

Link shook his head. "No, I'm… I came alone. She doesn't know."

That stopped Ghirahim short. For a long moment he stayed silent, and though nothing changed, Link had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being thoroughly examined. When the demon spoke again, he gave no hint to his conclusions.

 _Why_ are _you here, Link?_ he asked, all trace of dark mockery gone.

That was a good question. Link had no answer, but he realized with a jolt that he did know what he was going to do next. A part of him had always known.

"I'm here to take you with me," he said firmly, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing the enormous sword by the hilt. What _was_ he going to tell Zelda?

With some effort, Link unwedged it from the stone and pulled it free, and immediately faced a new problem. The sword was almost as tall as he was, and made entirely of thick, heavy metal. His quality time with Groose's weights meant that he could lift it now and might even be able to swing it, but he was afraid he'd stab himself trying to jump to the ledge.

Ghirahim said nothing, watching to see what Link would do. With a pang of regret, Link slowly unfolded his sailcloth, wrapping the sword in its thick, embroidered fabric and wincing as he heard it snag. It wasn't much, but it was all he had to keep the sword from slicing him as it jostled around on his back. He could always buy a new sailcloth if he had to… but this one had been special, even if the somewhat floral scent had long since faded. Maybe Zelda would repair it for him, if she ever forgave him for this.

 _Are you done sniveling over fabric?_ Ghirahim asked, and Link's jaw tightened.

"Did you want to be saved or not?" he muttered, unbuckling his sheath and dropping the Academy sword carelessly to the side. Eagus would be a bit put out that he had lost it, but Link could hardly make himself care.

 _Ahh, so that_ _'s what this is about,_ Ghirahim said shrewdly. _Ran out of people to save, did you?_

Link ignored him. His sheath had never been made to hold anything as large as Ghirahim's sword, but he thought he could rig the belts together so it wouldn't fall off his back. Securing the wrapped sword as best he could, Link slipped the harness back over his shoulder and stood, rocking on his heels a few times to test it. Leather straps dug into his shoulders uncomfortably, but it didn't fall. So far, so good.

Throwing another pebble in front of him to make absolutely sure he was facing the right direction—he had no red light to guide him now—Link backed up only a few paces before running forward with a leap. He stumbled a bit on the landing, the tip of Ghirahim's sword smacking against stone as his knees bent, but falling to lower ground was always easier than the other way around.

 _You really intend to do this, don_ _'t you?_ Ghirahim asked slowly, as if he hadn't quite believed it until now. Link gave a short nod. He could feel his Loftwing circling far above, awaiting his call. It was time to leave this forsaken mountain.

The icy wind hit him like a slap in the face, and Link recoiled, shuddering. He'd thought it was cold in the cavern, but that was because he'd forgotten the wind's bleak embrace. Tiny pieces of frozen water pelted him with each gust, but Link forced himself on, trudging through piles of the stuff that crunched under his boots. His Loftwing was not going to like landing in this, but it would only be for a few moments, and then—

The ground beneath him disappeared, and Link yelped as he pitched forward, rolling sideways down the mountain. The soft ice cushioned him as he fell, but he grunted each time he bounced against the sword at his back, praying to whatever deities might be watching that it didn't come loose. The thought of retracing his steps through this frozen wasteland to retrieve it was not a pleasant one.

Eventually, the ground leveled off, and Link rolled to a stop, moaning as he sat up. He was colder than ever now, his body racked with shivers as frigid water seeped into his clothes. How had he missed that drop? He'd only been retracing his steps… except now he remembered that he hadn't approached the cavern from its entrance. He'd inched along the mountainside, never noticing the steep incline he'd narrowly avoided.

 _As amusing as it is to watch you stumble your way through the snow, I don_ _'t relish the thought of you freezing to death while I'm strapped to your back,_ Ghirahim announced. _What_ _'s your plan for getting us out of here?_

"S-s-snow?" Link mumbled thickly through numb lips. It probably wasn't important. "B-b-brought my… L-loftwing." He couldn't stop shaking. Ghirahim was right. It was time to leave.

Link struggled to his feet, but froze at the sound of a long howl echoing from behind him that chilled his blood even further. A second howl answered it, somewhere off to his right, and another called directly in front of him. They sounded hungry.

"What are th-those?" Link asked, listening intently for their approach. The soft ice that had buffered his fall also muffled their footsteps, but he thought he could hear them panting.

 _Wolfos._ He couldn't decipher the tone of Ghirahim's voice. _You had best call your bird quickly, sky child._

Nodding, Link raised his fingers to his mouth, then hesitated. "Would… W-wolfos… attack a Loftwing?"

Ghirahim laughed.

 _They would have it for breakfast, if they could. Still, no choice but to_ _—what are you doing?_ he asked sharply. Link had unbuckled the strap holding the sword with clumsy fingers and was already unwrapping it hastily.

"This is the only s-sword I have," he said, regretting having cast his other weapon aside so soon. He couldn't call his Loftwing into danger, not if there was any other option.

 _You ignorant lout! You must not wield it!_ Ghirahim seethed, with a note of urgency that approached panic. _You don_ _'t know what you're doing!_

Talking was taking too much energy, so Link stayed silent, wrapping stiff fingers around the hilt. The sword was too heavy for anything fancy, but he hoped he could still swing it. His muscles felt strangely slow.

He could hear the beasts snarling as they approached. The one to his right let out a sudden growl, and Link swung his sword, catching its head with the flat of his blade as it leapt and sending it flying.

 _No blood shed,_ Ghirahim said tensely. _You were very lucky. Now call for your Loftwing._

Link had no idea why that was significant and didn't have time to wonder, because at that moment the other two Wolfos attacked.

This time, his sword struck only air, and Link cried out as claws scraped across his thigh, the second beast's attack deflected by his chainmail. His leg was on fire, the blood too hot against his frozen skin. One of the Wolfos pivoted with a snarl and Link knocked it aside, but couldn't stop the second one from scoring his arm. A quick duck of his head saved his throat from being cut, but left a shallow gash across his cheek. Blood stung wherever it dripped, too hot. Too cold, and too hot.

 _Call for your bird, you stubborn whelp!_ Ghirahim shouted in his ear. _They will weaken you until you cannot stand, then go for your throat. You_ _'re going to die if you don't leave now!_

"Shut up!" Link yelled, swinging the giant sword desperately, and this time he met his mark. He felt the slight tug of resistance as steel tore through flesh, and the Wolfos let out a high-pitched keen as it died, blood spraying from the wound.

From above, Link heard the familiar, furious cry of his Loftwing, and the remaining Wolfos yelped in pain, but the hero barely noticed. The sword in his hands pulsed with a strange, dark power, the hilt growing steadily warmer. Link growled as the heat quickly turned to pain, but his hands refused to unclench. From behind him came the familiar but long unheard sound of metal chimes.

"You do insist on stumbling in over your head," Ghirahim growled, no longer a disembodied voice. Hot breath ghosted over Link's ear, and strong hands wrapped around to guide his shuddering grip. Link's own hands were so numb he could barely feel them, but he struggled instinctively, trying to pull free. "Too late for that, boy. If this must be done, then let it be done. Thrust the sword into the earth and it will judge your strength."

Link's mind felt slow and sluggish, his thoughts struggling to keep up, and he relented. With all of his remaining strength, he plunged the great blade down through layers of ice until it pierced the ground below. A dull roar throbbed in his ears, and darkness assailed his mind, unseen but as deadly as any weapon. From deep in his hazy depths, something at the core of Link protested the invasion, and he pushed back, a fire alighting his bones as he screamed. His hand burned. The invisible force vanished with a cry of defeat, and even as his hands slipped from around the hilt and he started to fall, Link knew he had won.

He didn't notice the hands that caught him or the diamonds that whisked him and his sword away, but he smiled as he felt his Loftwing's warm body beneath him, burrowing his face into the feathers. The icy wind was gone, and Link realized he was flying, though the motion felt strained. There was somebody else behind him. Zelda?

"Hardly," a familiar voice sighed, sounding troubled. Link felt himself slipping away to the steady rhythm of wings beating the air. He felt content in a way that he hadn't since Fi left, a warmth he could never put words to hovering just at the edge of awareness. "I never expected this. Whatever am I to do with you now... Master?"


	10. Chapter 10

A bit of a slow chapter this time, but necessary. I expect it will pick up again before the end.

I might be taking on a freelance job that eats away at some of my extra time, so if the next update is a little slow in coming, don't worry. Then again, I might just forego sleep to write this thing. It's kind of taken over my life, and I really need my life back soon. Enjoy.

* * *

The flight back to Skyloft was a frozen blur that passed in fits and starts, some moments dragging for eternities while others slipped him by entirely. Link vaguely noticed a bottle being forced to his lips, someone stroking his throat with cool fingers to coerce him to drink. It must have been potion, because the next sensation he knew was an absence of pain, his cuts and scrapes knit back together as if they'd never been. He missed them, in a way. Pain burned, a constant source of fire and heat. Without that heat, there was only cold.

Link clung to his bird miserably, soaking in every possible scrap of heat from its soft feathers, but it wasn't enough. Each gust of wind sent him shivering, his damp clothing catching the mild breeze and turning it to ice. Concern pushed his Loftwing to impossible speeds despite its extra burden, but that only made the wind sharper. His mind scattered on the breeze, even his shivers dying away. If he didn't warm up soon—

It took a moment to realize that the wind had stopped. Raising a shaking hand, Link found a heavy mantle draped across his shoulders, its tall, stiff collar cutting off the worst of the rushing air. He gripped a handful of soft fabric in his fist and held it to his nose, inhaling the sharp scent of metal.

"Thank you," he whispered, and felt the man behind him stiffen.

"I could no longer abide your incessant quivering," he said, and Link breathed a weak laugh, fading away once more.

When next he woke, there was someone speaking in his ear. Screaming in his ear.

"Wake up! Are you the same whelp who defeated Demise or not? I will not have you spit on his memory by dying so easily now."

A cold hand slapped him across the face, and he groaned, eyes fluttering open.

"S'wrong?" he mumbled, staring blankly into nothing. There was something missing now, something bright and important, but he couldn't remember what. His Loftwing interrupted his thoughts with the relieved impression of a large island, surrounded by birds and people. They were almost home.

"I'll tell you what is wrong." The man behind him sounded angry, and something else. That voice in that tone should have made him afraid, but its hot breath on his ear had him leaning in, smiling. "I have been saddled with a _useless_ mortal who is hardly worth all this trouble."

"Warm," he murmured, and the person made a vexed sound.

"Pay attention!" A long, heavy object wrapped in cloth fell into his lap, and awareness stirred. He frowned, trying to focus. "This is probably a pointless effort, but at least attempt to keep this sword with you. Is your tiny mind capable of such a simple task?"

Link frowned, clutching it to his chest as he remembered. Ghirahim. He'd followed the red thread, and…

"The red thread," he muttered, realizing what was missing. "It's gone."

He heard a bitter laugh from behind him, though it soon faded away, along with the figure at his back and the cloak around his shoulders. He shivered at the absence, left bare to the wind once more.

 _Is it?_ Ghirahim mused in his ear, like Fi had done before him. _From my perspective, it binds us more tightly than ever._

Link slid from his Loftwing as it landed, almost falling off his feet as the sword weighed him down, and chaos erupted around him.

"Link?" he heard Fledge's anxious voice come running up. "Are you… okay?"

"Is that… Fledge, I think that's blood!"

"Geez, Link, what did you do this time?"

"Somebody get Gaepora!"

"Link, where did you—"

"What is—"

"Link—"

"'m fine," Link mumbled at the frantic inquiries directed his way, voices his jumbled mind could barely make out. He tried to walk, but bodies blocked him every way he turned. "I just need to—"

"Link!" He turned in relief as Pipit came jogging up to take charge. "Everybody, back off! Link, are you okay? Strich, go find the headmaster. You look too, Cawlin. Don't give me that look, just go! Fledge, take this rupee and bring back a red potion. I don't know, see if the shopkeep will lend you a bottle. Carry it in your hands if you have to! Karane, would you mind getting a bucket of warm water and meeting me at Link's room? We need to wash him up. Cawlin, what are you still doing here?"

Firm hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and Link gratefully allowed himself to be steered through the Academy's wooden doors. The wind had mostly dried his clothes off, though the occasional shiver still ran through him, and the air inside had the heavy, warm feeling of late afternoon. His hands felt stiff and swollen in his gloves, and as the numbness finally faded away, they started to burn.

"I'm taking you to your room, okay?" Pipit said as he led him along, still gripping him by the shoulders. Link didn't really need the guidance, but he didn't try to shrug him off, either. Without that grip, he might have fallen over. "We're going to get you all fixed up. Here, what's that you're holding? It looks heavy, let me carry it—"

"No," Link almost shouted, grasping it so tightly that it almost cut him even through the cloth. "It's… it's mine."

 _Good boy_.

"That's fine," Pipit reassured him, taken aback, and Link might have felt embarrassed by his outburst if his mind hadn't felt so fuzzy. "I won't take it. Where were you today? Were you attacked? Watch your step," he added as they approached the staircase leading down to the student dormitories.

"Yeah." The drying blood where his wounds had been made that much obvious, at least. "On the surface. Had a potion, though… 'm fine now."

It wasn't the most coherent explanation he'd ever put together, but Link thought it covered the basics.

"You're not 'fine,' Link." Obviously Pipit disagreed. "You really shouldn't go exploring the surface alone. Don't you know how dangerous it can be?"

Link frowned, wanting to say something cutting but unable to form a coherent response. He _had_ almost died, multiple times, but that still didn't give Pipit the right to lecture him. They were both knights, and Link knew the land's dangers better than he did.

Pushing the wooden door to Link's bedroom open, Pipit led him across the threshold. "Let's get you in bed and have a look at you. Headmaster Gaepora should be here soon, and—"

"I'm here now," a deep voice announced.

 _Oh, thank goodness,_ Ghirahim remarked as Gaepora's heavy footsteps crossed into his room. _I was beginning to think this island was inhabited entirely by children._ Link wished he would shut up. He was going to forget himself soon and talk back to the demon, and everyone would think he was crazy.

Zelda's father surveyed him silently for a moment, taking in his bloody, shivering form. Then he heaved a deep sigh. "Not the worst state I've seen you in, my boy, but not the best, either. Pipit, could you please retrieve some fresh clothes from his wardrobe? I've seen this before, and we need to get him warm and dry as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir." Link could hear Pipit rummaging through his closet, but he stopped paying attention. Gaepora was prying at Link's grasp on the sword, and he frowned, trying to shake him off.

"No… don't…"

"Please, Link," Gaepora said patiently. "I'll leave it right here by your bedside. We need to wash you up and get you changed."

"Promise… promise not to let anyone take it," Link said, ignoring Ghirahim's frustrated growl, and Gaepora patted his hand gently.

"I promise. Just rest."

The heavy sword was lifted away and set to the side, and Link leaned back into his pillow, noticing only absently when Gaepora started to peel away his tunic and Pipit began pulling at his boots. He couldn't bring himself to feel properly ashamed of being undressed like a child, not even when Karane came in carrying warm wash water. He'd had his wounds tended too many times, and the water felt too good on his skin. The last time he'd been looked after like this had to be… after the volcano. Link thought maybe he'd liked the volcano. It was warm.

He felt himself drifting off again. With no reason to stay awake, he let himself follow the feeling, chasing sleep like a Mogma down its warm, blissful tunnel as thoughts and memory and that annoying voice yammering in his ear drifted away together.

Hours later, Link's eyes snapped open, it all came crashing back.

He laid perfectly still, listening intently to the familiar nighttime sounds of the Academy, Fledge snoring away in the other room. There was something off, but it took a moment to puzzle out what it was. His room felt warmer than usual, and the lingering smell of smoke told him that someone had dragged in a small brazier for extra heat. The soft clothes on his back felt strange, but that was only because he'd grown so used to his knight's uniform, which would need mending and washing. Finally, he managed to pinpoint the sound of soft breathing by his bedside. There was someone in his room.

Of course. He'd brought Ghirahim back with him from the surface. Ghirahim, he realized with a cold shudder, was in Skyloft. Very slowly, he reached a hand over the side of his bed to check on the sword.

It was gone.

"I know you're there," he called out, and the person beside him inhaled sharply.

"Link! You startled me." It was Zelda. He relaxed, sitting up with a groan as his stiff muscles protested the movement. "I didn't realize you were awake. How are you feeling?"

He considered the question, taking stock of his various aches and pains. "Not bad. Sore. Hungry," he added as his stomach growled, and Zelda laughed.

"We can fix that, at least. The other will ease in time. Here." He heard her stand and retrieve a tray from his desk, setting it on his lap carefully and handing him a spoon. His swollen fingers wrapped clumsily around it, no longer burning but still sore. "I had someone bring you some pumpkin soup. I added a couple peppers to help warm you up, so it might be a little spicier than you're used to."

It _was_ spicy, and Link's eyes watered as he ate, but he still drained the entire bowl, even running his thumb along the bottom to catch the last few drips. There was a roll set to the side of the plate, and he devoured that, as well. As he ate, he tried to work out what had happened—a difficult task with his memories still playing hide-and-go-seek on him. He hadn't heard Ghirahim's voice since waking. Had he dreamed it all? Where was the demon?

His stomach was almost uncomfortably full when he finished, and sweat broke out across his face as the peppers warmed him from the inside out, but he embraced the foreign feeling. It had been too long since he'd last had an appetite. Zelda, who had watched him the entire time without speaking, retrieved the tray and set it back on the desk with a light clatter.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, when she remained quiet. "For the food."

"You're welcome," she said softly. Again, there was silence. Link twiddled his thumbs together awkwardly, then sighed when it became clear that she wouldn't speak first. He thought he knew what she was waiting for.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. It didn't seem fair that he had to apologize, but it was hard to defend his impulsive actions. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"My father was quite surprised when we unwrapped the sailcloth you entrusted him with to find Demise's sword hidden inside," Zelda said, and he stiffened. So he hadn't dreamt that, at least. "He didn't recognize it, of course, so I had to explain it to him. It's a very dark weapon, Link. Hardly something worth risking your life over."

"Where did you put it?" Link asked, fists clenching in his sheets. He had never told her about Ghirahim's true identity as Demise's sword. At first he hadn't known how to talk about it, and later it just hadn't seemed that important. If nobody was watching him now, the demon could have gone anywhere. Even when Link had decided to rescue him from the mountain, he'd never meant to bring him back to Skyloft… had he?

"Where did you find it?" Zelda shot back. " _How_ did you find it? It doesn't seem likely that you stumbled across the sword on accident. Did somebody give it to you?"

"I… it was the blindfold," Link relented. There was no point in trying to hide it. "There was a thread leading down to the surface, and—the blindfold!" he said in sudden realization, clapping his hands to his eyes as he realized that the red thread was gone. There was nothing there. "Have you seen it? I know I was wearing it when…" Even as he searched urgently around him with his hands, a dim memory resurfaced of that red light flickering out as he flew. He'd been too addled to realize what it meant then, but now he felt the beginnings of panic.

"We can look for the blindfold later, Link," Zelda insisted. "Where did you go?"

"I'm not sure," he said distractedly. If Ghirahim _was_ gone, Link had no way of finding him again. For some reason, the thought terrified him. "Somewhere cold. Freezing. There was ice all over, falling from the sky—"

"Snow," Zelda interrupted, and he blinked.

"That's what… yeah." Ghirahim had used that word at one point, but he hadn't known what it meant. "There was… snow… all over the place. And… monsters." He almost said Wolfos, but then he'd have to explain how he'd learned the name, which he wasn't ready to do yet. "I only meant to be in and out, but… things kind of got complicated."

"That's one way of putting it," Zelda said with a sigh. "You were in more danger than I think you realize. Skyloft can get cold sometimes, but not like that. You're lucky you made it out with all your fingers and ears intact, much less your life."

"What?" Link said, startled, raising a hand to rub anxiously at the tips of his ears. They felt normal to him, but he remembered suddenly how the potion he'd taken to heal his injured hand had gone straight for his ears, as well. "I didn't know… Zelda, I'm sorry—"

"Don't be," she said, and her wooden chair creaked as she sank back in it. "This was all my fault."

Link's hand stilled, falling back to his lap as he waited warily to hear how she planned on blaming herself for this one. He'd been the one acting recklessly, pursuing danger for danger's sake with no thought for the consequences. Recalling his actions now felt like watching a stranger in his body. A part of Link had thought he was finally facing his demons on that mountain, but maybe all he'd managed to find was another way of running.

"Pipit was concerned because he saw you go off flying this morning instead of training with the knights like you always do," Zelda said, regret tingeing her voice. "Fledge was worried, too, when he saw you stocking up on potions. I told them both not to follow you. I thought you needed time to think, but… if you hadn't come back…" Her voice broke, and Link winced. He hoped she wouldn't cry. "Then that would have been _my fault_ too for stopping them, just like everything else—"

"No," Link said, shaking his head vigorously. "Stop… stop doing that. You're always trying to take the blame for me. Even you can't stop me from doing dumb things."

Zelda managed a small laugh, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Maybe not," she teased gently, though her voice quickly became serious once more. "But I cannot escape the blame for everything that is my fault. All that you went through on the surface… and all that awaits you in the future..."

Link winced. He had told her about Demise's curse because she deserved to know, and because if anybody could think of a way to fix it, surely it would be the goddess… but sometimes he regretted that decision, even if it was the right thing to do. Zelda had her own demons that he didn't know how to fix—a mortal bearing the weight of an immortal's impossible choice.

"You couldn't have known what would happen," he said stubbornly. "And the rest isn't your fault, either. It was better than letting Demise win."

"The goddess—"

"The goddess knew what choices I would make," Link interrupted her, though he'd said as much before. It was a well-worn conversation, and it never did any good. "All she did was place me where I needed to be to make them. That doesn't make them any less my own."

"The goddess knew you would be born blind," Zelda whispered, and the world came to a shuddering halt as the words in his throat died away. This was something new. "It wasn't her decision. Even a goddess can't control all the threads of fate. She could only weave with what she was given, and hope things worked out for the best… but she knew. And she… I used you still, because your unbreakable spirit was humanity's only chance."

So many times he had wondered on his quest if fate had gone somehow awry. Even the goddess's servants had doubted him at times. Only Fi had been unwavering in her belief that all would work out as it should, though her percentages must have told her otherwise.

"Well then," Link said hoarsely, "it sounds like you didn't have much of a choice, either."

"I guess not," Zelda admitted with a sigh, settling back into her chair with a creak. It was the most he'd ever managed to get from her. Maybe someday he could really help her believe it. "Tell me… when you followed that thread to the surface, did you know it would lead you to Ghirahim?"

The casual question hit him like a slap, and Link realized that he was an idiot. Of course she already knew. Hylia had fought against Demise in that ancient war, and Ghirahim had been his weapon. She probably knew more about the demon lord than he did.

"I did," he admitted reluctantly. At least that meant that wherever the sword was, it was probably being securely guarded… unless she'd already disposed of it. The possibility left him cold with fear, even in this warm room. "I just… needed to know what happened to him."

"I see," Zelda said. "Then you must know that his blade now recognizes you as its master?"

"…What?" Link's stomach swooped as if he'd missed a step, though he hadn't moved. Weakly, he tried for a laugh. "That's… that's not funny, Zelda." Ghirahim would stab him before agreeing to that.

"So it's true," she murmured. "You actually managed to retrieve his sword and complete the ritual _by accident_. No wonder he was so irritated."

"But—but I would know," he argued, starting to feel queasy. He was starting to think she was serious. "When I got Fi—"

"Fi and Ghirahim are similar in some ways, but their power derives from different sources," she said, tapping the wood of the desk thoughtfully with her fingers. "Perhaps Demise foresaw a time when he might be temporarily defeated, because he ensured that not just anyone could take up his blade when he was gone. The ritual itself is deceptively simple—your own blood spilled willingly, and another's life taken—but only a person of sufficient strength could ever truly wield his sword, and the spirit within. Most would perish in the attempt, but someone who could bear the Triforce of Power would surely be strong enough. Someone like you."

A vague memory resurfaced of thrusting the sword into the earth, and of the dark power that had threatened to overcome him, and with dreadful certainty he knew she was right. Link tried to picture himself wandering the surface with Ghirahim by his side and that enormous sword strapped to his back, but the image was too bizarre to contemplate.

"I'm not, though," he protested weakly. "I'm not Demise. I'm not even Groose! I can barely lift it."

"That's not the kind of strength I mean… though there may be a way to fix that," Zelda said. "Do you remember the sacred flames?"

Link nodded slowly, breath catching in realization. It had taken him long enough to search them out. He had used their purifying power to strengthen Fi, transforming her over time from the Goddess Sword to the Master Sword. It hadn't occurred to him that they could be put to any other purpose, but if Zelda was suggesting what he thought she was…

"Those flames were left here by the three goddesses who created this world, and are almost as old as the land itself. The blade you now wield is not inherently evil, but Demise has… tainted it. The power of the flames should be enough to purge it of that darkness, and shape it for your hands."

Link's pulse quickened in equal parts excitement and trepidation. The promise of a new blade was tempting, one tempered in divine fires like his old one was and made for him to hold. He could be done with those Academy blades forever. Except…

"I don't think Ghirahim will like it," he said, remembering the sacred heat of those purifying flames on his hands. Fi had remained unchanged through it all, but she had not been a demonic spirit, so who could say how the flames would affect him? Come to think of it, Ghirahim might not be too pleased about changing the shape of his blade, either. The demon was excessively vain.

"The process won't hurt him," she said, and Link didn't like her dismissive tone. "You are the sword's master, not Ghirahim. It's not his decision."

"He's a sword, not a slave," Link retorted coldly. Memories of Ghirahim's treatment at the hands of Demise were still fresh, and he refused to be like that. "And I'm not Demise."

"I… no, of course not," she said, sounding troubled. "Just don't let yourself be taken advantage of. He's the same wily spirit he always was, even if he must now take his orders from you." She considered him. "Link… why did you go chasing after that thread?"

Link shrugged uncomfortably, turning away, but Zelda leaned in to grip his shoulder.

"Please don't go quiet on me now," she pleaded. "I'm not—okay, maybe I'm a little mad, but I still need to know. All this time, I've been hoping that eventually we would move on from the past and build something new, but you seem determined to drag it all up again. Why?"

"Why did you stop pushing me off cliffs?"

He wasn't entirely sure why he said it, and it was obvious that she didn't, either. Her confused silence was broken by a disbelieving laugh.

"You always hated it when I did that," she said, and Link shrugged again, scratching his head helplessly.

"That never stopped you before. But… it's that, but it's more than that," he realized. "You stopped pushing me to do… anything. Everyone did. I know that you want to move on, but we're not _moving_. _I_ _'m_ not moving. I'm just… I'm fading. And I couldn't do it anymore. I'm sorry," he added in a softer voice. He hadn't meant to say all that. "I know you were trying to help."

"Don't be," she said after a long pause. "The best of intentions are useless if they do nothing but harm. After everything you've already done, I just wanted you to be safe and happy… but maybe that's not what you want anymore. You're a hero now, for better or worse." For all that she was trying to sound cheerful, Link knew her better than that. "What's done is done, and you need your rest. We can figure this out in the morning."

Zelda stood, groaning lightly as she stretched, and Link settled back against his pillow. He was exhausted, he realized, his short burst of energy expended, but he still wasn't sure how he'd ever fall asleep with so much on his mind.

"Where are you keeping the sword?" he asked, yawning. In some ways it was a relief not to have to deal with it all until morning, but he still wanted to know.

"On your desk," she said, and he froze mid-yawn.

"…What?"

Soft laughter erupted nearby, and Link's spine stiffened with dread as metallic chimes announced the demon's arrival at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, sky child," Ghirahim said delightedly, and Link let out a long, shaky breath that he tried to hide. "The look on your face."

"My father didn't want me to take it, even after I explained what it was," Zelda said stiffly, ignoring him. She sounded torn between fondness and exasperation, the way she always was when her father still treated her as the child she had been. "I guess he gave you his word. I would have had it moved anyway, but… Link, as his sword's master, Ghirahim is unable to kill you, but he was under no obligation to aid you when you were dying, either. The fact that he did save you is the only reason why I didn't throw his sword off the island despite your bond, and he is very well aware of the fact. I trust you have not forgotten our conversation, Lord Ghirahim?"

"Fear not, Your Grace," he said, and though the words were perfectly respectful, his amused tone could only be mocking. "Your many warnings are impressed upon my mind."

"Good," she said, voice hard. "I meant every one of them. Link needs his rest, and I expect you not to bother him tonight." In a much softer voice she added, "Sleep well, Link. I'll see you in the morning," before slipping out the door.

"I am of half a mind to watch her attempt to enact them," Ghirahim muttered as the door closed behind her. "Perhaps you will permit _me_ to push you off a cliff in her stead? If you had only told me earlier how much you missed it, I would have happily obliged."

Link said nothing. He was too busy frantically trying to recall the entirety of their conversation together. How much had he said?

"Oh, do relax," Ghirahim scoffed, stretching out across the bed to prop himself up on one elbow beside him. It was a small bed. He could feel Ghirahim's breath on his ear. "Do you intend to put me out of the room whenever you have a conversation?"

Link hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. This was uncharted territory with the demon, and he found himself at a loss for words. Ghirahim wasn't trying to kill him— _couldn_ _'t_ kill him, according to Zelda—but there was a lot he could do before even approaching that, Link was sure. It didn't help matters that this situation was entirely his own fault.

"I said relax." A single cool finger moved across Link's face, tracing the outline before traveling down the bridge of his nose. Eyes widening, Link turned onto his side quickly, facing away from the demon. Undeterred, Ghirahim's hand moved to wander up and down his back, showing the same disregard for personal space he always had. He almost told him to stop, but felt his tension unwillingly start to seep away beneath that insistent touch. Eventually the demon grew bolder, rubbing at Link's sore muscles in a way that made him gasp. He hadn't realized how much stress he was holding until it all started melting away.

"You have put me in a difficult position, sky child," Ghirahim mused as he worked, and Link almost moaned in relief as the demon hit a particularly tender spot. "Demise is the only master I have ever known, and he is gone. I could seek out vengeance on his foes, I suppose, but the slip of a girl you call Zelda is hardly the same being she once was despite her memories, and the man who struck the killing blow… he now wields my sword. So where should my loyalties lie? Either I carry on with my hopeless vendetta, the last loyal servant to a long dead king… or I abandon my king and my kind to pledge myself to a human. To _you_." His hand moved up to Link's neck, rubbing in firm circles. "I suppose we are stuck together either way now."

"Do you want to be my sword?" Link asked, submitting to the demon's ministrations with a shuddering breath. Maybe he shouldn't be letting his guard down so easily, but Ghirahim _had_ saved him. Besides, he would have to sleep sometime.

"That is irrelevant," Ghirahim said, his hand moving around to stroke the hair from his forehead, and Link stirred.

"It's not… though," he mumbled, exhaustion hitting him like a wave. "It… matters…" Suddenly suspicious, Link tried to pull away from Ghirahim's hand. "What are you doing?"

"My duty to you," Ghirahim said, sounding far away. "Sleep, little master."

Link thought that Ghirahim's devotion to duty had come at an awfully convenient time, but helpless to resist, he obeyed. As he reluctantly drifted towards sleep, he realized that the demon had never told him which side he intended to choose.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry this update took me a few weeks. The next one will probably take me even longer, unfortunately-I have a real life deadline coming up, and basically all my free time for the next month at least will go towards meeting it. I promise to see this through to the end, though. We're getting closer.

* * *

Sprawled across the small room's only chair, Ghirahim fiddled with a carved wooden flower, turning it mindlessly in his hands as his new master slept. His jagged sword glinted dully in the moonlight beside him, incongruous amongst the brightly painted carvings scattered around it. Surprisingly, the wooden shavings dusting the floor suggested that Link had crafted them himself. A strangely pedestrian hobby for a great hero to take up, but Ghirahim had never objected to the creation of beauty. Link must have had a great deal of time on his hands to have carved so many.

After long years imprisoned within cold metal, Ghirahim was constantly distracted by the smallest sensations: his gloved fingers curling around the delicately carved wood, or the smooth sweep of hair that brushed his cheek each time he turned his head. Idly, he allowed one of his long gloves to vanish, raising his pale hand to admire its pearlescent glow in the dim moonlight. At a thought, inky black stained the tips of his fingers and seeped down, spreading in spiraling diamonds until it halted midarm. A beautiful sight, and oddly reassuring in its familiarity, but he still couldn't shake the thought that he had changed somehow. Perhaps it was more of an internal shift. He wished there was a mirror among the boy's sparse possessions, but of course there was not.

Somebody coughed just outside the door, shifting about in an effort to stay awake, and Ghirahim rolled his eyes, abandoning the flower in favor of examining a small wooden bird. It was almost offensive to be guarded so ineptly. These children were only playing at knighthood, whatever they thought. Peace had reigned too long on these floating islands, and the fine art of war had been forgotten. Link had been the same once, before the surface and Ghirahim himself taught him better.

The spirit maiden must know that he could utterly destroy whoever stood behind that door, likely before the fool even knew they were dying, yet she had placed them in harm's way, in _his_ way. He could almost believe she was temptinghim to the slaughter.

These so-called deities were all the same, claiming the right to be worshipped yet utterly dependent on the servants they used so readily. The goddess's flawed plan would have come to nothing if Link had not salvaged it, but now it seemed she kept him caged, with words if not with bars, unable to face the warrior she had created. Demise… his failure had been unforgivable, squandering Ghirahim's carefully orchestrated success by falling in battle almost as soon as he was revived, yet condemning his most faithful servant to a cold mountain to rot as if the price of failure was _his_ to pay. That brief moment of ecstasy when Demise had finally wielded his blade still haunted him, his only reward and not nearly enough in the end.

Ghirahim was done with them all. Almost, he was tempted to dispose of his unsuspecting guard just to prove to the little goddess how ineffective she and her kind really were… but he was not the type to kill on a whim, whatever others might think of him. Besides, it was a little early to be burning bridges. He still hadn't decided on his next course of action.

Revenge was a less attractive option than it might have been a thousand years earlier, before icy solitude had cooled his rage and time healed his wounds. No, the most logical thing to do was to convince Link to sheathe the sword within him once more, freeing him of the irritating constraints that governed him whenever he and his sword were separated. Then he could go wherever he liked, putting Demise and Hylia and their petty feud behind him. He could hardly obey Link's orders if he wasn't around to hear them. Perhaps he could return to the land of demons. There was likely influence to be gained in the turmoil of the Lower Realms following Demise's death... but the thought held little thrill. Ghirahim had wielded power among legends and gods, and made both tremble with fear. Would he now content himself with the petty squabbles of politics?

With an irritated huff, Ghirahim sank further in his seat and was momentarily distracted by the graceful sight of his own leg kicking leisurely over the arm of the chair. Always before, his master had given him purpose, or at least direction. Now he was adrift.

"No!"

Ghirahim was jolted from his thoughts by a hoarse shout. Glancing over, he saw that Link's entire form had gone rigid, blue eyes blown wide with panic. Caught within a dream, no doubt. The boy had not slept easily all night. Strange to think that for Link, their battle had taken place only months before, the scars still fresh on both body and mind. For Ghirahim, it had been considerably longer.

"I'll leave you… Don't want…" He was gasping between words now, writhing in the covers with his eyes squeezed shut. Ghirahim watched him with determined dispassion, a twitch of his fingers the only outward sign that Link's distress affected him in any way. It was ludicrous to consider allowing any human to wield his blade, even this one. Especially this one. Although…

Unbidden, the memory of Link carving his way through hordes of bokoblins to reach him resurfaced, and his tongue darted out to run across his lips. For a moment, he imagined Link's hands wrapped around his hilt, delivering death in the dance he had grown so skilled at in his short lifetime. Link would never have the sheer power of Demise, of course, but his strength did not lie in brute force. The way his courage propelled him past obstacles that would have felled more powerful men… that was the beauty of Link. Ghirahim ran a finger along the pattern of feathers etched into the wooden bird in his hands, considering. Perhaps he could take that raw ability of his and sculpt it into something elegant, like Link had with these pieces of wood. Then maybe…

"Don't want to kill you," Link said, shuddering, and tears ran down his cheeks. Abruptly the room surged with Ghirahim's fury. He should never have allowed himself to grow so attached, but it still would not be nearly so difficult to admit to himself what he wanted if Link did not insist on flaunting his appalling ignorance in all things. Link _should_ have claimed the sword as his right after defeating its master. Ghirahim could have respected that. Instead, he had fallen from the sky like the natural disaster he was, claiming the sword unintentionally as if it were some trinket that any child could pick up off the ground and nearly getting himself killed in the process. This boy had vanquished Demise, the very source of all darkness, yet now he put his weakness on display. How could Ghirahim ever be bound to somebody so vulnerable? So _human?_

"I'm sorry," Link whispered, curling in on himself. The demon's anger left in a rush, and he laughed dully.

"It is not your fault," he said, tossing aside the now-splintered bird with a rueful grimace. Link could not help his mortal failings, but Ghirahim was tired of being forced to learn humility from a child.

Link froze as if some distant part of him had heard. Fumbling a hand from beneath his blankets, Link reached towards his voice, fingers outstretched.

"…Alive?" he breathed, arm trembling with desperate effort.

Ghirahim considered him for a long moment before his last spark of resistance died and he returned the gesture, clasping Link's hand within his own black fingers.

"Alive," he said softly, and Link relaxed, his hand slipping away as he fell back asleep with an expression of relief. His face was thinner than Ghirahim remembered, the round softness worn to angles by more than just the passing of time. He didn't need the increased understanding their new bond gave him to see that Link was wasting away. Happy heroes did not risk their lives attempting to bring back fallen foes. Maybe Link felt the loss of purpose as keenly as Ghirahim himself… which meant that they might be most suited to help each other. Fate would not have tied them up again without reason.

Humans lived such short lives. Would it be worth the blow to his pride to have Link continually within reach for whatever remained of his?

A loud caw from outside finally interrupted his reverie, and Ghirahim looked up, startled, as an enormous violet bird stuck it's head through Link's small window. The sunlight streaming in behind it was almost equally surprising—he hadn't realized it was morning. Before he could decide how to react, the beast spat a folded piece of paper out at Link's drowsy face and withdrew, the wooden slats slamming shut behind it. Link yawned as if this odd ritual was nothing out of the ordinary, stretching lazily as he sat up in bed and unfolded the thick paper. The inner surface of the paper was blank aside from a series of indented marks, but Link ran his fingers over it as if reading words that weren't there, the sleep slowly fading from his expression. Frowning, Link shook his head and ran his fingers across the paper once more, feeling each mark deliberately. It must be writing of a sort, meant to be felt rather than seen.

"She didn't even _ask_ ," he muttered, obviously disgruntled. Ghirahim thought he could figure out who had sent it.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, and was gratified by the way Link jumped, reaching over his back to draw a sword that wasn't there. Obviously, his hero was not a morning person.

"None of your business," Link said, before snapping his jaw stubbornly shut. Maybe he expected Ghirahim to drive the conversation as he always did, but the demon only lounged further in his chair, prepared to wait him out. Every time before it had been Ghirahim seeking Link out, not the other way around, and he was curious to see what Link would do next. His discussion with the goddess last night had cleared up some of _how_ he'd found him—enough to make him regret tossing that blindfold away so carelessly, though it had been immensely satisfying at the time—but not nearly enough of the _why_.

Eventually, Link's stiff posture softened somewhat, and he played absently with the corner of his bedsheets. Ghirahim wondered if Link was even aware of just how much he revealed without words. It was a wonderful dichotomy that the hero could be so fierce, yet so unguarded

"You saved my life," he said at last, as though still uncertain about that fact, and Ghirahim inclined his head.

"Old habits die hard, I suppose. I assure you, it will not happen again."

"Thank you," Link said, and Ghirahim's fists clenched before he could stop himself. "I guess this means... I'm still in your debt."

It took Ghirahim a moment to remember what he meant. If only _those words_ did not have such an effect. He was not some dog awaiting his master's praise… but finally, it came to him

"Is that why you sought me out?" Ghirahim asked incredulously. Even Link must have realized by now how far from merciful his guidance at the volcano had been. "Your sense of honor borders on absurd."

"I… Yes," Link said after a brief hesitation, though his voice quickly firmed in a pathetic attempt at deception. Ghirahim was going to have to teach him how to lie. "I couldn't leave things the way they were without… without trying to make things even between us."

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to think of something else," Ghirahim said, graciously deciding to humor Link for now. He was in a giving mood, and he was starting to suspect that even Link didn't know the reason, at least not consciously. "You should have plenty of time, considering our new… partnership."

Link winced. "Listen… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologize," Ghirahim snapped, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. He was oddly disappointed when Link only shrank back, running a hand through his messy hair. The difference between this subdued young man and the quietly ferocious hero he remembered was starting to unsettle him. The old fire must be in there somewhere, however deeply buried. It just needed to be… stoked.

With a smirk and a shimmer of diamonds, Ghirahim was draped over Link, his hands to either side of his head.

"If you don't leave your bed soon, I will begin to think you intend to fill your debt in a rather more… intimate way," he murmured, allowing his hair to dip down and brush Link's cheek. Physical touch had always worked well in the past. He was rewarded by the sight of Link's face flickering from confusion to flustered realization with almost painful slowness.

"N-no, I'm…" Link raised his hands to push him away, but the force behind the motion quickly died. Slowly, his palms flattened against the demon's chest, and Ghirahim's smirk faded as Link's hands traced the diamond pattern cut into his outfit, moving up to bury themselves in his mantle. With a gesture, the red fabric disappeared, and Link's hands crept upwards along his neck to cup his face, warm and surprisingly steady. Ghirahim _almost_ leaned in—this was far from a mere brush of hair against skin, more intimate a touch than he'd felt in ages—but Link's distant expression held him back. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, he looked as if he were somewhere else entirely.

"Lost in memories?" Ghirahim asked softly, and Link blinked, drawing back with a deep breath.

"Move," he whispered, and the demon obliged, retreating back to his chair to observe Link thoughtfully. Link sat up, tossing aside the blankets to push himself unsteadily out of bed. Brushing past Ghirahim, he opened his wardrobe and began pulling out items of clothing, pointedly turning his back on him.

"We need to leave as soon as possible," he said as if nothing had happened, though his ears were bright red and he was talking too quickly. "Zelda's meeting us at the temple, and then we're heading over to Lake Floria." Link lifted the hem of his shirt, pausing for only a moment before pulling it stiffly over his head. "About the sacred flames… I meant what I said before. If you don't want to—"

Link cut off as Ghirahim appeared right behind him, running a finger down the long red scar marring his side. The muscles of his torso clenched at the touch, but with the wardrobe in front of him and Ghirahim behind, there was nowhere for him to go.

"My blade did this to you," Ghirahim murmured, his hand coming to rest on Link's hip. "It was quite a delicious moment, as I recall… though perhaps you remember it differently."

Link gritted his teeth. "Don't—"

"But it's not your battle scars that haunt you, is it?" Ghirahim continued over him, pressing himself closer. Link shivered at Ghirahim's cool touch on bare skin. "Physical pain is so fleeting in the greater scheme of things. Now, the pain you inflicted on others… that might be harder for someone with your soft heart to dismiss."

"If you think I feel guilty about what happened between us, you're wrong," Link said harshly, though his thin frame trembled almost imperceptibly beneath Ghirahim's fingers. "I was justified."

"Of course you were," Ghirahim agreed, and gripping Link by the shoulders, the demon turned him around in one fluid motion, hands sliding down bare arms to grip Link's wrists. Pressing those hands against his face once more, Ghirahim made sure Link could feel his smirk. "But that doesn't always matter with moments like this one muddying the waters."

"You…" For a moment, Link's voice failed him, and he swallowed hard. The strength of his glare was such that it was easy to forget he couldn't see. "You don't understand half as much as you think you do."

Ghirahim studied Link intensely, then nodded to himself in satisfaction. That fire was still there, smoldering. The old Link was not beyond reach.

"You may be right," Ghirahim allowed. "Overconfidence is so rarely a failing of mine, but it rears its inconvenient head from time to time." The demon disappeared from beside Link to examine the desk and its contents once more with an artful nonchalance that was, as always, wasted on his current audience. "Do _you_ wish to wield my sword, Link?"

Link, relaxing at the sudden space, was caught off guard. "I—"

"Before you answer, consider that accepting my blade means more than just a pretty sword to wave around. It means… me." Ghirahim gestured expansively as if to encompass all that he was. "My presence, my company. For the rest of your life, I will be your constant companion. A blessing beyond what most are privileged to experience, but surely more than you expected to find when you sought me out. Is that really what you want?"

"It seems like I have that whether I want it or not," Link said slowly. "Unless there's a way of breaking the bond that you haven't told me?"

"Not breaking it, no," Ghirahim said. "Not if you wish to remain alive, at least. However, it can be… stretched. Sheathe my sword within me as Demise once did, and I will be free to leave and never darken your doorstep with my presence again." Not that Link would be aware of, at least.

A flicker of something like panic flashed across Link's features.

"No," he said reflexively, stepping forward. "I… don't want that."

"Oh, really?" Ghirahim said, amused. "Then it stands to reason that the opposite must be true."

Link licked his lips, and Ghirahim eyed his small tongue sharply.

"I… you!" Link shook his head, aiming a finger at him. "I asked you first, and you've been dancing around the question. What do _you_ want?"

"Me?" Ghirahim asked, a slow smile unfurling as he picked up a carving from the desk at random, toying with the unpainted wood. It seemed to be a portrait of some kind-his goddess girlfriend, no doubt. "I want what any sword would want-a master who will use me in battle as I'm meant to be used. That might be you, though you have changed since last we met." Link's flinch said he'd struck a blow. "A part of me fears that a carving knife is the blade most suited to your hands now. I will not alter myself to suit you only to end up as an ornament on your back."

"The war is over, but I'll fight where I'm needed," Link said, his voice deceptively calm. Ghirahim could feel the truth of his anger radiating off him in waves. "You should know that already. You might have saved my life, but I still got you out of that mountain. It could have been years before somebody else found you, if anyone ever did, and you haven't thanked me for that."

Ghirahim didn't answer right away, running a finger along the carved figure's upturned mouth. The strokes were rough, as if done in a hurry, but with a startling attention to detail. Not the girl's face, but his own, committed to wood by Link himself.

"Well?" Link demanded, voice rising, and Ghirahim's head snapped up.

"It's _been_ years, boy, more than you can count," he said coldly. Ignorant. Always so ignorant. Must Link always have everything spelled out for him? "Or did you forget which side of the Gate of Time our battle took place on? You made it back through that gate when it was finished. I didn't."

Link's anger melted away, replaced by dawning horror as understanding hit. "I didn't know—"

"Obviously," Ghirahim said. "So you will understand why I refuse to waste my time further with a master who is not worthy of this blade."

Link said nothing, guilt creeping across his expression as he stood struggling to comprehend exactly how much time must have passed. Soft-hearted, indeed. Even envisioning such a span of time would be impossible. The boy had aged since Ghirahim had first come across him stumbling through the forest, but he was still barely a man as his culture reckoned things. Just one single century was longer than he could expect to live, assuming he wasn't felled in combat—a disturbing short span of time.

"I don't know," Link said at last, sounding torn. "It's all… it's too much too fast. After everything you tried to do… I don't know if I can move past it."

"Well, I'm not going to beg," Ghirahim snapped, something inside him twisting unpleasantly. "Perhaps I've misjudged things, and you enjoy this quiet life. It seems comfortable enough. Plenty of leisure time, and from those warm looks the goddess gives you, she certainly wouldn't mind if you two became a little more friendly. If that's what you want, who am I to intrude? Of course, I would be bored to tears by it all, so you'll forgive me for deciding that it's best if we part ways."

"Wait!" Link threw out a hand, and this time his panic was unmistakable. "I didn't say no."

"Oh?" Ghirahim said, stalking forward audibly to stand before Link once more. To the hero's credit, he stood his ground. "You cannot have it both ways, sky child. If you view this bond as a burden, then relinquish my blade to me right now. I know my own worth, and will not be diminished by you."

"What if…" Link gazed straight through him, biting his lip in thought. "At least give me until we reach the first sacred flame to decide. Consider it a trial run for both of us. I might not be exactly what you want in a master." There was something bitter in that last statement, gone before he could pin it down. "If we both decide it's what we want, we'll use the flame. Otherwise… you'll be free to go."

"Unless you plan on dying soon, you are quite literally my only option," Ghirahim said dryly. "But it's a fair request."

"Good." Nodding firmly, Link stuck out his hand to shake. "So it's a deal, then?"

Ghirahim eyed the offered hand with amusement before catching it in his own, bringing Link's fingers to his lips. Link's eyes widened.

"Such formalities, sky child," he murmured. "But I accept. Though to be honest, I had hoped my new master would be a little more eager. Even… pining. But oh, silly me." Ghirahim pressed the carving of himself into Link's hand. "I do believe you already are."

Link's eyes widened as he realized what he'd been given, face flushing to his roots. "I…"

Ghirahim smirked, looming over Link to whisper in his ear.

"Put a shirt on, Link."

Growling under his breath, Link threw the sculpture at him, but by then he'd already vanished. Letting his laughter echo, Ghirahim retreated a safe distance away to wait, and watch.

He didn't miss how Link was careful to retrieve the carving, placing it on his desk before hurriedly slipping a white shirt over his head.

Despite Link's hurry, there were preparations to be made before they could leave, and the hero was in and out of the room gathering food and supplies for the better part of an hour with a firm request that Ghirahim stay out of sight whenever someone came by. It _was_ a request, surprisingly enough—perhaps Link had not fully grasped that he was only bound to follow orders—but it made sense to oblige him, if only to speed things along. Link was not overrun with visitors, exactly, but his dramatic arrival the day before had started enough rumors that there was a steady stream of curious well-wishers, keeping Ghirahim contained to the sword more often than not.

Link had just finished "writing" a note of his own, either ignoring or oblivious to Ghirahim's fascination with the process, when there was a short knock on the door. Reluctantly, the demon slid out of view once more as Pipit entered, accompanied by a timid boy named Fledge who it turned out occupied the other half of Link's room.

"Looks like you're feeling better!" Pipit chirped, tossing a bundle of fabric into Link's arms. "Here's your uniform… aaaaaand here's your sailcloth! Good as new."

"I wondered where these went," Link said, surprised, running his fingers over the stitching before pulling the green tunic over his chainmail. As ridiculous as the garment was, Link somehow hadn't looked right without it. "I was going to try to mend them tonight."

"You can thank Zelda for that," Pipit said, leaning against Link's desk and examining the dark sword with fascinated unease. "She sat outside your door half the night stitching them up you. Said she couldn't sleep. I would've sat with her for a bit, but my patrol kept me busy."

"Rough night?" Link asked, surreptitiously raising the sailcloth to his face and inhaling. Ghirahim felt a flash of irritation at something he couldn't quite place.

"It was Mia!" Pipit exploded, tenderly rubbing the side of his jaw where he sported three vivid red lines. "I spent half the night just trying to keep her off me! A couple of Keese tried to dive at me, too, but they were easy enough to get rid of. It hasn't been like this in months! But… but it all comes with the territory, I guess. Somebody has to keep an eye on this place at night, and I'm… happy to do it."

"I'm sure it was just an off night," Link said, though his eyes had widened as if realizing something unpleasant. Unless Ghirahim was mistaken, he even looked a bit guilty.

Fledge was staring at Ghirahim's sword.

"Is that..." Fledge began, reaching a hesitant hand out. The red gem on the hilt flashed in irritation, and he withdrew the motion quickly. "That's, uh, that's Demise's sword, right?"

"Yes," Link said shortly as he buckled on his pouches, but neither of them took the hint.

"Wow," Pipit whistled, impressed. "He must have been a big fella." Ghirahim very nearly came out of the sword at that, except that he couldn't imagine any response to such an inane statement aside from incoherent spluttering. Link coughed lightly into his hand—covering up a laugh? "How did you find that thing, anyway?"

"It's hard to explain," Link said evasively, slipping a cane through a loop on his belt. "I'm just about to take it back down to the surface. Zelda thinks we can… cleanse it."

"Oh yeah, Zelda mentioned that. She said you guys were going to some cistern?" Pipit scratched his chin, then shrugged. "Well, I know you've been itching for something to do. I'm glad she's taking you along."

"I can put something together to help you carry it, if you'd like," Fledge offered. "It won't be as nice as the pouch I made, but it should get the job done. Umm… if the sword will let me touch it. I don't think it wants me to."

Link blinked, then sighed in exasperation. "It will if it doesn't want to be melted into a carving knife right now," he snapped, not seeing the startled look his friends exchanged. Ghirahim relented, and was surprised by how easily Fledge managed to lift its weight. Maybe some humans were more interesting than he'd initially given them credit for, though they all still died too easily.

Finally, Link was pulling his leather gauntlets on and settling his hat over his head. With a bit of convincing, Link had managed to get a second sword, and with Fledge's help they were both strapped to his back along with his shield, with an arsenal of food and various items wrapped around his waist. It had to be more weight than Link was used to, but he bore it all without complaining.

"You're sure you don't need me to come with you?" Pipit asked for the fifth time as they approached a wooden platform that dropped away abruptly into thin air. Despite his precarious position, Link's footing was sure, and he stopped before reaching the edge. "It's not a problem, I promise."

"I told you, I'll be fine," Link said, his patience obviously wearing thin. "I don't need a minder following me every second of the day."

"Link, wait." Pipit caught hold of his shoulder before he could jump. "I'm sorry. It's my duty as a knight to protect those in need, but more than that, it's my duty as a friend to look out for you. I know you can take care of yourself—the fact that you're still alive proves that much—but that doesn't mean you have to."

"I appreciate that," Link sighed. "But I'm fine. I have plenty of people watching my back."

"Alright…" Looking unconvinced, Pipit clapped him on the back and stepped back. "Tell Zelda I'll be down later today with Karane. She thinks she's found the perfect place to build, so we're going to go scope it out."

"...Of course," Link said, his smile becoming fixed. "Maybe try taking a nap first, though. It sounds like you could use one."

"There's no time for lazing about like that!" Pipit said, sounding scandalized. "Although… a knight _should_ keep himself in fighting shape, and that includes getting proper rest…"

Link was distracted, standing only inches from the platform's edge. The timing was too perfect. Materializing behind him, Ghirahim pushed Link off with a delighted laugh, relishing in Link's startled yell as he fell.

"It's what he wanted," Ghirahim explained to an astonished Pipit before the growing distance of his sword forced him to dematerialize in a wave of diamonds, sending his consciousness back towards his blade. Link was already whistling for his Loftwing, landing atop the bird with a grunt as the larger sword slammed against him.

 _I don't take kindly to threats, sky child,_ he whispered in Link's ear. Not that he'd needed an excuse to push him, of course. It was really more of an afterthought.

"Pipit's probably putting together a rescue party right now," Link muttered, edging his mount closer to the forest, but Ghirahim thought he saw a reluctant smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

The ancient cistern was set inside a cliff overlooking Lake Floria, a silent, looming testament to the heights of design and architecture the humans had once reached before Demise's war tore away their progress. Ghirahim had explored it to its grimy depths in his hunt for a way to revive his master, and had given Link the gift of a cursed Koloktos to deal with when he'd been too busy to attend to him personally. Another life now, it seemed. There was something to be missed in the single-minded purpose of those days, though in reality that frenzied part of his mission had been anxious and interminably stressful.

The Loftwing landed gently in the shallow pool in front of the entrance, and Link dismounted with a splash. Ghirahim appeared behind him, surveying the entrance. Once a waterfall had provided some poor defense against entry—not nearly enough to keep out monsters, much less Ghirahim himself—but some force must have moved it aside since then.

"Take this to Zelda, out by the temple," Link told his Loftwing, pulling the note from his pocket and placing it in the beast's beak with a fond pat. "We should be out in a few hours. I'll whistle for you." The bird nuzzled him back, then took off with an enormous flap of wings that sprayed both of them with water. Link only laughed, but Ghirahim shook the water off as best he could, disgruntled.

"I truly despise that animal," he muttered. "I take it we're not meeting the spirit maiden after all, then?"

"No," Link sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I thought it might be best if it was just the two of us for now. I explained it all in the note, though. I'm sure she'll understand." He sounded sure of no such thing.

"I'm hardly complaining," Ghirahim said with a toss of his head. "The less time spent in the goddess's presence, the better, as far as I'm concerned."

"Her name is Zelda," Link said flatly, clearly annoyed. "Not 'the goddess' or 'the spirit maiden'. Zelda. Why can't you call her that?"

"Why does it bother you so?" Ghirahim asked. Frowning, Link opened his mouth to respond, but a booming voice interrupted them.

"YOU!" it roared, filling the alcove, and Link's face fell.

"Oh, right," he whispered, dread tinging his words. " _Her._ "

"How _DARE_ you show your face here again, demon?" The water surrounding them surged into a towering wall as an enormous blue dragon crested above, glaring down at them. It was an admittedly impressive sight, and likely an alarming amount of noise for someone like Link to sort through.

"Ah, Faron!" Ghirahim said brightly, bowing low with a flourish that rid him of his red mantle. Best to be unencumbered in a fight. "Surely you're not still sore after our last encounter? It seems you're already back to full strength."

"Stand back, hero," the Water Dragon said coldly. "I swore to you that I would repay Ghirahim for what he did, and now I have the pleasure of fulfilling my word."

"If we must," Ghirahim said, materializing his saber and licking his lips with a grin, excited now despite himself. It had been too long since his last battle. "My blade has missed the salty tang of your blood." The Water Dragon bared her teeth at him, ready to strike.

"Ghirahim, stop!" Link shouted desperately, drawing his own sword, and he had no choice. Gritting his teeth, Ghirahim halted his attack, disappearing in a flurry of furious diamonds as Faron's teeth snapped the air where he had been. Whirling around, the Water Dragon halted, staring at Link with slitted eyes.

"Do you draw your sword on me, boy?" she asked with a hiss, and Link's eyes widened.

"N-no, of course not!" Obviously thinking fast, Link sank to one knee in the shallow water, grinding the tip of his sword into the ground in a formal bow. "Forgive us for not seeking you out before now. We are here at the direction of the... goddess," he grimaced, "on a mission to cleanse Demise's sword."

Faron's eyes narrowed further. "The goddess sent no word of it to me," she spat, glaring at Ghirahim as he reappeared to stand beside Link. "Surely _he_ is on no such mission. Does Her Grace ally herself with demons now?"

"As she was regrettably unable to come herself, the goddess felt it would honor you the most to send her chosen hero as messenger," Link said, and Ghirahim had to give him credit for knowing exactly how to deal with this insufferable creature. "The demon lord Ghirahim is bound to the sword, and has agreed to aid me in this quest."

"Is that so?" Already she seemed mollified. The water towering above them sank slowly down, and the Water Dragon surveyed Link over templed claws as he rose to his feet, sheathing his sword. "Forgive my bluntness, but surely your time of usefulness to Her Grace has passed? Your infirmity must be insurmountable without the sword that once served as your guide."

Link's face went white, and he bowed his head.

"She somehow finds use for me still," he nearly growled, skirting the line of politeness, but with obvious effort he smoothed his voice. "Ghirahim has agreed to guide me in her place for the time being."

Faron was either unaware or affected not to notice his lapse, staring levelly at Ghirahim.

"Is that so?" she asked, and Ghirahim spread his hands helplessly, not trusting his own voice. He disliked having to flatter this overly proud lizard, but it was no good trying to fight her when Link could stop him with a single word. "Ah. Ahaha!"

She laughed long and loud, curling up in the air. Ghirahim elected for a bored expression, though he couldn't stop his lips from tightening. Link just looked confused.

"The goddess has bound you to her will, hasn't she?" Faron said triumphantly, wiping away a tear. "Ahhh… what an ironic twist in your fate, demon. Much better than any revenge I could dream up, though I still might bite your head off one of these days. I suppose he takes his orders from you, hero?"

"He does," Link said, cautiously hopeful, and Ghirahim could see him deciding that some further demonstration was necessary. "Tell her, Ghirahim."

Ghirahim's smile should have frozen Link's heart.

"That I do," Ghirahim agreed with another bow. "Of course he is lacking in _so_ many ways compared to my previous master, though in other ways _quite similar_ , but one does as one must." He refused to watch Link's reaction. The bond told him all he needed to know.

"Indeed," Faron said with a false sympathy that set his teeth on edge. "Very well. I will trouble you no more. If the goddess sees fit to redeem that hunk of metal, I won't question it. However, be sure to keep your demon on a short leash, Link, or I will not hesitate to devour him."

Baring her sharp teeth, the Water Dragon left, spiraling away through the air until she was out of breath. Link let out a long, relieved breath, rubbing at his forehead before straightening his hat.

"I'm sorry I had to ask you to do that," he muttered, "but thanks for playing along. If I'd started a feud with the Water Dragon, Zelda would never forgive me."

"Well, by declawing me so handily with a single command, you did not give me much in the way of options," Ghirahim spat, acid dripping from his tongue. It was not Link's fault, exactly, but he needed a target for his rage, and Faron herself was gone. "I suppose I should be grateful you did not force me to _dance_."

"What are you talking about?" Link asked, taken aback by his sudden venom. "I didn't force you to do anything!"

It was too much. Colors shifted through the air as Ghirahim struggled to contain his fury, and he saw Link tense, saw him prepare to draw a sword as if he couldn't stop any attack with a simple command. One day Link was going to hang himself on his own ignorance. Ghirahim had heard the goddess tell him, but he must not have taken her at her word. Did he really think his friend would ever have left them alone together without this final failsafe protecting him?

"Tell me, Link," Ghirahim ground out, "did _Fi_ ever disobey your commands?"

The wariness did not leave Link's eyes, but now he looked confused as well. Ghirahim was starting to think it was his natural state of being.

"I… never really thought about it," he said. "She might have if I'd asked her to do something counter to her mission, but it never came up."

Ghirahim rolled his eyes. "Perhaps she was a poor example. Her capabilities were already quite limited. Let me put it this way: do you think Demise would tolerate a weapon that might betray him at any time?"

"What are you saying?" Link asked, looking vaguely uneasy. Maybe he was starting to understand.

"Are you dense as well as blind?" Ghirahim snapped. "I do not call you _master_ for no reason. I am _quite literally_ at your command. A single word from you will rob me of the power to defend both you and myself, as you have already demonstrated."

Horror pulsed through Link so strongly it was a wonder he stayed standing.

"I don't want that!" he said, aghast. "Can't I just… command you to stop obeying?"

Ghirahim grinned bitterly. "That might present its own set of problems. Oh, but don't worry. You'll grow to enjoy it soon enough. It's only human nature. Power corrupts, as they say."

"No." Link shook his head vehemently. "I don't care what you say, I'm not like Demise."

"You don't have to be," Ghirahim said. "The first few times will be accidental, like today was. Oh, you'll apologize quickly enough, but it won't change the fact that it happened. After that, it's only a matter of time before I overstep some boundary you refuse to see crossed, and you give your first intentional order. Still, it's all well and good. Your motivations will be pure, and _somebody_ has to keep my violent tendencies in line. Eventually, what was once so repulsive to you will become justified, and then… commonplace."

Link stayed silent, his face stuck somewhere between disgust and fear. He must have realized that events would unfold exactly as Ghirahim said they would.

"It's nothing to fret over," Ghirahim said softly, unable to stop himself. "I have had centuries to grow used to it, after all. I'll even help you along. Here." The demon appeared behind Link with a snap, grasping his arms in an iron grip. A dagger appeared, floating before Link to settle against his cheek, and Link shuddered, spasming against him as it drew slowly downwards, leaving behind a thin trail of blood.

"What are you—ah!"

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Ghirahim murmured, resting his forehead on Link's head and breathing in the fear. "It's all under your control, though. Just say the word. Even you can't feel guilty over self defense."

"Ghira… hah," Link panted, face tight with pain as the dagger made its slow way down his cheek and along his neck, inching towards his collar bone. Blood dripped down his cheek to fall from his chin, making small red ripples in the shallow water beneath. "Ghira… d-don't…"

"Say it," he hissed, eyes burning, and Link's own eyes snapped open.

"Ghirahim, please!" he shouted, and the dagger halted in its tracks. "Please… stop this."

After a long, agonizing moment, the dagger vanished, and Ghirahim released Link's hands, stepping back wordlessly. He couldn't say what had made him stop. Link ran a thumb along the shallow cut to wipe away the blood, but only succeeded in smearing it. The injury was intentionally minor, little deeper than a paper cut. It might not even leave a scar.

"Maybe you're right," Link said. "Maybe there's no stopping that from happening. But it won't happen today." Slipping the walking stick from its loop on his belt, Link squared his shoulders firmly. "Would you please lead the way? I could find the entrance on my own, but it would take awhile."

Ghirahim strode ahead of him, splashing through the water, and Link followed the sound of his movements, tapping along with his stick to feel out any obstacles. When the stone beneath him fell away, Link replaced his stick and swam the rest of the way, panting as he hauled himself onto the broken steps leading towards the cistern's entrance.

"Your sword… is not easy to swim with," he said, wringing the water from his hat before replacing it on his head, and Ghirahim scoffed.

"If you accept the sword as your own, swimming will no longer be an issue," he told Link stiffly, snapping his fingers in demonstration. "There are advantages to having me around. You have put up with an inferior weapon for too long."

"So you haven't changed your mind?" Link asked quietly, and Ghirahim rolled his eyes.

"I am not put off so easily, boy. Now come. If we must mutilate my sword to suit you, we might as well be about it."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be so bad," Link said, accepting Ghirahim's help in climbing to his feet. Water dripped from his clothes, but he ignored it as if he'd experienced the same a hundred times before. Maybe he had. "The Master Sword looked just fine when it was done."

Ghirahim watched as Link slowly descended the steps leading down to the cistern, each step a tentative act of courage beyond what most people would ever experience. He might just prove to be the most surprising master he ever served.

"Forgive me, Link," Ghirahim said, following after, "but I trust your judgment in such things least of all."


	12. Chapter 12

I hope this chapter flows okay. I basically wrote it on my phone in twenty minute increments at the gym, which is not the best way to write anything. Anyway, please enjoy ;)

* * *

Water streamed from Link's clothes and dripped down his face as he descended the steps of the ancient cistern, marking his passage as it fell with small, barely audible _plinks_. The draft of air that rose to meet him was just cool enough to make him shiver in his damp clothes, filling his lungs with the scent of sweet, purified water mixed with the heavier smell of old stone. Something about the cistern's solemn presence always seemed to invite quiet contemplation despite its hidden dangers, or maybe even because of them. Monsters lurked within the still water, creatures formed of Demise's evil waiting to capture unwary prey, and the caverns hidden beneath his feet held greater horrors still. However serene and inviting it seemed on the surface, Link always knew there was malice within that could strike at him without warning.

It was something worth keeping in mind, Link thought as he heard Ghirahim's footsteps halt. Danger had a way of showing itself when it was least expected.

Luckily, there was no reason to go exploring the cistern's dark depths today. He had already done the hard work of clearing the way to the flame months earlier. All he had left was the long journey up.

"What are you waiting for?" Ghirahim asked, and Link started. He realized he'd drawn his Academy-issued sword on instinct, waiting for the dead metal in his hands to guide his way. It was startling how quickly he'd fallen into old habits, even months later.

"Nothing," he said, using the sword to feel ahead of him instead. Link couldn't expect Ghirahim to slip seamlessly into routines that he and Fi had taken months to build together. A new balance would have to be forged between them, something Link couldn't even guess the shape of yet.

Gingerly, he touched the long, stinging line down his cheek where Ghirahim's knife had trailed across. At least he'd had the foresight to come without Zelda, though he was starting to regret hiding behind a note. He'd intended to talk to her in person, back when he thought there was no way around being Ghirahim's master, but now… If she found out that getting rid of Ghirahim was as easy as sheathing a sword, she'd never understand it if he decided to keep the demon around anyway. Better to wait, at least until later tonight when he'd made up his mind and the business with the flames was decided. Then they could talk.

Abruptly, the sword's quiet clinking against stone disappeared as he reached the edge of the water, and Link paused, considering how to proceed.

"There are lily pads straight ahead, if you wish to jump across," Ghirahim said from behind him in a bored sort of way, as if he found this whole endeavor pointless. "I believe that's how you made it through before. Or you could give up this farce of an agreement and admit that you intend to bear my sword, and I'll take you to the flame right now."

"Not a farce," Link said calmly, though the last bit made him frown. "How would you know how I made it through?" Ghirahim gave an amused hum.

"Oh, I found it useful to keep an eye on your progress from time to time. Even… enjoyable," he said, leaning forward, and Link turned his head uncomfortably. He had the uneasy feeling that he'd rather not know just how often that had been. "I can see that you intend to be stubborn. Shall I guide you, then?"

Haltingly, Link nodded. It was a short jump, and Ghirahim signaled him perfectly, but the sharp chime in his ear brought back memories of that long ago night in Eldin, and suddenly he was there. Link could _feel_ the oppressive heat, scorched skin protesting in pain as lava baked the air beneath him, and he stumbled as he landed, coughing at the scent of remembered smoke. The lily pad shook under the added weight of Demise's sword on his back, its tremors yanking Link back to the present as he waited breathlessly to be dumped in the water, but eventually the large plant steadied. Face flushing, Link waited for a snide remark from the demon, but none came. He only signaled him again, and this time Link clung to the grounding sensation of cool air on his skin as he jumped, making it to the other side while maintaining his grip on reality. Still, some part of that old fear remained, and he lurched forward as if the distance he'd crossed might reach out and burn him before catching himself.

 _It's only water_ , Link reminded himself angrily, straightening with embarrassment. _The worst you could do is get wet._ These flashbacks weren't new, but they'd been coming with growing frequency since returning from that snow-covered mountain, as if digging up his past had torn down all of Link's carefully constructed barriers.

Ghirahim lifted the stone door leading to the cistern's heart before Link could reach it, laughing low in his throat as Link passed.

"You look so nervous," he murmured. "I promise not to lead you off any ledges." Link scowled, swatting him away. Ghirahim couldn't know what he was thinking… could he?

The doorway took them through to the immense statue's base, its elongated neck stretching up in a column of air above him. Once Link neared the top, there would be fountains to carry him the rest of the way up. Until he reached that point...

"Stairs," Ghirahim said distastefully, and with a snap and a sound like shattering metal his voice became distant. "I imagine you can make it this far without my help. Let me know when you change your mind."

"You're awfully confident," Link noted. Steeling himself, he began the long spiral upward, step after dragging step. He was far from out of shape, but with Demise's heavy sword on his back it didn't take long for sweat to break out across his forehead, mingling with the water that still dripped from his hair.

"I am confident," Ghirahim agreed, and Link imagined him lounging languidly above him, watching him struggle. "But not overly so, I think."

"What makes you... so sure?" Link asked, and Ghirahim laughed.

"This is quite a lot of effort to go to for someone who intends to simply walk away," he said dryly. "No need to look so conflicted, sky child. Desperate people do desperate things."

"I'm not…" Link let the words fall off, and not just because he was short of breath. Ghirahim was as insufferably sure of himself as always, but Link also worried he might be right. Desperation had led him to seek Ghirahim out in the first place—the overwhelming need for _something_ in his life to change. That same desperation fueled him now, too. If only that layer of fog clouding his mind would clear. It still hovered there, scattering his thoughts in confused, worried spirals that carried him nowhere. Maybe that was what he was waiting for—a moment of clarity, some sort of light to illuminate his path. There was still time for those clouds to part, and Link was willing to wait.

If only Ghirahim were so patient.

"Our deal was that you would make your decision when we reach the flame," he reminded Link yet again when he was eventually forced to catch his breath, materializing nearby from wherever he'd been watching. "Not that you needed to walk the whole way there."

"Let it be," Link growled between deep breaths, his irritation finally breaking through. Was it so hard to be quiet? "If you're so sick of leading me around, just leave me alone and let me think." His outburst was met with a long silence that made his skin itch, but he refused to shift under the weight of Ghirahim's unseen gaze. Maybe he'd decided to listen.

"Would it reassure you if I told you that I will never tire of leading you around?" Ghirahim asked finally, his dark voice reverberating in the enclosed space. "That the very prospect of having you constantly at my mercy sets my heart fluttering?"

"I…" Link paused to swallow, his throat suddenly dry. "I didn't think you had a heart."

"Just an expression, sky child. Although…" Ghirahim placed a hand against Link's chest, and even through his chainmail Link knew he could feel it pounding. He tried to convince himself it was all from exertion. "There is no shame in wanting things, Link. Even if what you want is… me. Why else would you have sought me out?"

"I don't know!" Link exploded, pushing Ghirahim's arm away. To his surprise, the demon didn't resist. "Maybe I'm just crazy. It feels like it sometimes. You dismiss the past so easily, like none of it matters, but I _can't_. It… it grabs me. Without warning. One moment I'm here, and the next..." Link bit his lip to keep it all from pouring out, not sure why he'd said as much as he had. Even that short admission was more than he'd ever told Zelda, and _much_ more than he should be telling Ghirahim. But then…

The strange thought occurred to him that maybe there was nobody left alive who was capable of understanding him better than the demon before him. Fi was beyond his reach now, and despite Zelda's knowledge of the surface and its inhabitants, she still hadn't seen any of the things he'd done. Groose had seen some of it, more than most, but he wasn't quite the type for confiding in, even if Link thought they were friends now. Only Ghirahim knew almost the full extent of what had happened to him on the surface, having caused most of it himself.

It wasn't the best foundation for a trusting relationship, but it was all he had. Maybe things would be different now that Ghirahim was free of Demise's influence. He had acted under the demon king's direction then as surely as he now followed Link's. How much of what he had done had been duty to his master, and how much the demon himself? Could even Ghirahim separate the two?

Ghirahim, who had watched his internal agonizations thoughtfully, now shot out his hands to grip Link's wrists. Before Link knew what was happening, his leather gloves had been stripped away and tossed to the ground.

"What are you…" His voice shuddered to a halt as smooth skin met his fingers, the feeling so unexpected that he didn't even have the chance to fight it.

 _His heart thudded in his chest, part terror and part fascination, the sure knowledge that he could die at any moment tempered by wonder at the fact that he was still allowed to draw breath. The angles of the face beneath Link's fingers were strange and unknown, though each one burned itself in his memory as his hands moved down, mapping them out. Even the air weighed on him oppressively, heavy with moisture that beaded on Link's forehead and dripped down his face. Ghirahim's skin was cool and dry in comparison, unaffected by mundanities like heat and the weather, and so impossibly smooth. Link's fingers moved down, brushing unsmiling lips, and he paused at the sudden discrepancy. That mouth should be smiling, smirking, shouldn't it? Hadn't it?..._

 _"That's enough." The voice was right, but the words were all wrong. "That's enough, Link. Breathe."_

Link breathed deeply, one single inhale, and the world around him collapsed as cool air replaced the forest's muggy heat. Hands still encircled his wrists, and he tore himself free, shaking. Of course Ghirahim had figured it out.

"Don't do that." Link remembered his decision not to bind the demon to his word, and decided that he didn't care. Ghirahim didn't have the right to… to… " _Don't_ do that."

"Is it so unpleasant?" Ghirahim asked, and it took Link a moment to gather his thoughts enough to respond.

"That one wasn't so bad," he said, lowering himself to the ground to sit on the stone steps, head in his hands. The fear of that night made him sick to his stomach, but the rest… "Others are worse. It doesn't matter. They shouldn't be happening at all."

"You speak as if this has gone on for a while," Ghirahim said with obvious interest that Link couldn't comprehend. "Yet you only retrieved my sword yesterday."

"I… yeah." Had it really been just one day? "Other things cause them sometimes. Sounds, or… or sensations. They've been worse since finding you, though." He couldn't quite keep the accusation out of his voice, and wondered why he'd bothered to try. Link had expected Ghirahim to gloat over his crumbling former opponent, not… whatever this was.

"Maybe the life you've led since then has been too quiet to trigger such a response," Ghirahim suggested. "I gather that you haven't spent much time _adventuring_ since then."

"Maybe," Link said cautiously, "but that still doesn't help. What if it happens in the middle of a fight, or…" He imagined himself losing his grip during any of the crucial moments that always came up during battle, and sighed. Zelda had been right to hold him back all along, even if she hadn't known why. Link felt broken beyond repair. "I don't think this is going to work. I'm sorry."

"Get up." Link didn't move, and Ghirahim nudged him roughly with his foot. "I said get up, Link. You were never so fast to give up before. I am more than capable of defending us both should the need arise, and if it does, we will find a way to deal with it. Now, get up."

Link blinked, and stirred.

"We will?" he repeated, rising slowly to his feet.

"Unless you think you can handle it on your own?" the demon asked, and Link shook his head.

"No, I mean… why? Why would you bother?"

"You really will make me say it, won't you?" Ghirahim muttered. "Don't let it go to your head, but there are few competent swordsmen alive in this age. Very few. I will not allow the only masterful warrior I know of to slip through my fingers so easily." He growled in disgust, as if regretting his words already. "Come. The fountains are not much further."

With a sound like irritated chimes, the demon disappeared, and some long-forgotten sense told him that Ghirahim had retreated inside the sword. Hesitating for only a moment, Link started to climb once more, pausing to feel around for his fallen gloves and slip them back on. Oddly enough, he felt reassured. It hadn't been the reassuring comfort that Fi would have offered him, but it was more than he'd expected. For the first time, the thought of partnering with Ghirahim actually seemed… possible.

He couldn't stop a small grin from tugging the corners of his mouth. _Masterful_ , was he?

Still, Link's smile had long since faded by the time the stairs came to an end, and he stopped gratefully at the sound of rushing water, gulping down air. Pulling out an empty bottle, Link filled it with clean water from the fountain and drank deeply. He wasn't looking forward to getting wet again just as he was starting to dry off, but for once Ghirahim didn't offer the easy way out.

 _I suppose you'll need guidance,_ he said instead without bothering to emerge from the sword, and Link nodded with a weary sigh.

"Please."

Stepping into the geyser's flow, Link was carried upward, water buffeting him as he struggled to remain upright. Eventually, he reached the top, and Ghirahim directed him towards the ledge in a noticeably gentler tone that didn't trigger such a drastic response. Groping for the stone surface, Link's feet met solid ground, and he lurched forward, barely keeping his balance. Straightening once more, Link followed the curving wall to the next fountain to do it all over again. In just a few minutes, Link was standing in front of the entrance to the room where Koloktos—and Ghirahim—had once been.

"It feels like there should be something waiting in there," Link remarked, climbing the stairs slowly. Maybe it was that there had always been some larger foe to face at the end of exploring a dungeon, or maybe it was the realization that he had made it to this point without encountering any enemies. It seemed almost too good to be true.

 _I hardly intend to raise Koloktos again,_ Ghirahim scoffed as Link reached the top of the stairs, and Link fervently hoped he meant it. _Not even your life can be so formulaic._

Wrenching the stone door open, Link stepped back as the overpowering stench of rotting flesh made him gag. Then he heard the moans, and his enchanted shield was off his back in an instant, its holy light keeping the undead creatures at bay. Of everything he'd expected to encounter, cursed Bokoblins has been far down the list. What were they doing so far from the cistern's depths?

 _I stand corrected,_ Ghirahim said in surprise. _A bit of leftover magic from Koloktos left to fester, I think. It seems we'll have some entertainment after all._

"How many of them are there?" Link asked warily, listening hard as the familiar rush of adrenaline surged through him.

 _Oh, only about twenty or so_ , Ghirahim said, and Link winced. Cursed Bokoblins were unarmed aside from the skeletal hands they used to choke the life from their prey, but they still were dangerous in numbers. If enough of them swarmed him at once… _No need to look so gloomy, sky child. It's nothing that you can't handle._

Link growled under his breath, but it was half-hearted. How long had it been since he'd been trusted with anything remotely threatening without some worried comment being made about his safety? With grim determination, Link tilted his head, pinpointing his first target before moving to strike. If Ghirahim thought he could do it, he wasn't about to prove him wrong.

At first it was all Link could do to keep them off his back. The shambling Bokoblins were slow, but tenacious, and they continued to rise and attack no matter how many times they were knocked over, their broken limbs dangling or missing entirely. Only a finishing blow to the heart once they'd fallen could keep them down for good, but he couldn't do that without leaving himself vulnerable to attack. Luckily, each Bokoblin down made the rest even easier, and soon Link was picking them off one by one. The sword he used wasn't as sharp or balanced as the Master Sword had been, but it got the grisly job done.

 _Behind you, boy, behind you!_ A Bokoblin he'd failed to notice latched onto him, its fetid stench filling his nostrils as its skeletal hand wrapped around his neck. Shuddering, Link swung his sword wildly to cut it down, stabbing its heart twice once just to be sure. _Much better. Pay attention next time, you deserved that. Don't stand there and scowl, keep moving! There's one to your right, are you deaf as well as blind?_

Link thought he could have done without Ghirahim's particular brand of encouragement, though it was effective in its way. He could have done without the barely contained hunger in his voice as well, but that was just Ghirahim.

 _Now imagine you were wielding my blade, and not that oversized butter knife…_ he mused almost to himself as Link pivoted smoothly, knocking another Bokoblin over and sinking his sword into its chest in one smooth motion. The Bokoblins' moans had finally died down, giving way to grim silence, and he thought that might be the last one. _Then you might actually… Link, wait!_

Footsteps came from behind, and Link whirled around on instinct, his blade darting forward. Chimes rang out as Ghirahim emerged faster than Link would have believed possible to catch his sword midstrike, its momentum halted so suddenly that he grunted.

"What are you doing?" Link asked with barely suppressed annoyance, ears still pricked for the Bokoblin that had caught his attention. Then he heard a small, shuddering gasp, and the hilt of his sword slipped through suddenly numb fingers, clattering to the ground.

"Never lose your weapon, child, no matter what happens," Ghirahim said coolly, and Link heard the scrape of metal on stone as the demon bent to retrieve the fallen sword, pressing the hilt of it into Link's hand. Link wiped it on a nearby body before sheathing it slowly. "The Bokoblins are all dead. I assumed that you did not wish your foolish friend to share the same fate."

"Zelda?" he said with dread, hoping he was wrong, but with a cry she threw herself around him, burying her face in his neck. Link's arms moved to encircle her, stroking her long hair and noticing distantly that it was soaking wet. She'd been through the fountains, too.

"I'm sorry," Zelda whispered, shaking uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to…" She shuddered, and Link's grip on her slowly tightened at the realization of what had almost happened.

"You should have announced your presence," Ghirahim told her, cold anger tightening his words, and Link wondered why he had stopped him in the first place. He was sure the demon would not mourn her death. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"I… I've never seen him…" Zelda pulled away as much as Link's hold on her would allow, clearly torn between guilt and anger at being talked down to. "Link, I've never seen you fight before, not like that. Did you… did you kill them all, or did Ghirahim…"

"What are you doing here?" Link asked roughly, unable to smooth the anger from his voice. If Ghirahim hadn't stopped him in time... "Didn't you get my note?"

"You had us all worried, Link," she said, regaining some of her poise as she stepped back. This time, Link let her go. "Pipit reached me at the same time as your Loftwing. Apparently, a _magic stranger_ pushed you off the edge of the island before disappearing." She huffed. "I couldn't keep him and Groose from following after when I told them where I was going. They're waiting just outside the door, by the way. I told them I wanted to talk to you first." A part of Link was grateful that they hadn't seen what he'd almost done, but the greater part of him was sinking with disappointment.

"You couldn't trust me with even this much?" he said, and Zelda sighed.

"Can we talk?" she asked, her voice flat. "Privately?"

"Ghirahim, would you mind?" Link asked when the demon said nothing. He heard a snap, and the rush of showering diamonds that carried him away.

"Don't be long, _master_ ," Ghirahim called out. The emphasis on his title was for Zelda's benefit, he was sure—a reminder that he had moved at Link's request, and not hers.

"Listen," Zelda said softly, stepping close to toy with the collar of his shirt as she did whenever she had to say something uncomfortable. "We haven't had the chance to talk alone since before… well, I know you don't like it when I worry about you, but I'm still… concerned." Her voice firmed as if she'd decided on her angle of approach, and she smoothed his collar flat. " _Something_ must have happened between the two of you on the surface—don't tense like that, you don't have to tell me what—but I'm afraid it might be clouding your judgment. Maybe we shouldn't rush into this."

"I'm not rushing into anything," Link told her, forcing himself to relax. He didn't want to be angry with her under any circumstances, but especially not when he knew Ghirahim was watching so closely. "It's like you said, the sword belongs to me now. If there's nothing to be done about that, then what's the point of waiting?"

"That's the thing," she said, lowering her voice further. "I was thinking about it last night, and there might be something we can do after all. It won't break the bond, exactly, but it will be close. Demise must have done _something_ before he was sealed that allowed Ghirahim to walk free without him. If we can just figure out what it was—"

"I know," Link interrupted her, heart sinking. So she'd figured it out. "Ghirahim already told me."

"He did?" Genuine surprise filled her voice for only a moment, replaced quickly by relief. "Link, that's great! I know you didn't like the thought of him trapped in that cave, so just let him go under the condition that he doesn't return to harm the settlement or anyone else. He'll be free to do whatever he wants as long as he's not hurting anyone, and we can go back to life as normal. This will work out well for everyone." She actually clapped her hands, delighted to have found such a simple solution to their problem.

Link licked his lips, opened his mouth to speak, then licked them again.

"No," he said finally, realizing that Ghirahim had been right all along. He'd made his decision, though he hadn't realized it until now. Why did she have to follow him? "It won't. I'm keeping the sword, Zelda."

"What?" Zelda laughed, pushing his chest playfully. "Link, don't be silly. If you hate the Academy swords so much, we can get you a new one. Gondo's bladesmithing is improving by the day. I'm sure if we tell him it's for you, he'll make you the best sword in all the sky. And… I won't hold you back from using it, either. Not anymore." Her voice turned sober. "I just… I never could picture it, you know? You were always so gentle growing up. But watching you today…" She shivered, and Link felt a stab of irritation. Hadn't the goddess realized what she was requiring of him when she asked it? But then, Zelda both was and was not the goddess. Bodies on the floor and blood on a sword were just abstract concepts until experienced firsthand... or at least, they had been for him. "You deserve the chance to protect the settlement as much as any other knight, and you're obviously capable of doing so. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't trust you. I do."

"...Thank you." Two days ago, that had been all he wanted. "You don't know what that means to me, but... it's not just about the sword. I'm keeping Ghirahim, too." That sounded wrong, like Ghirahim was a stray Remlit he intended to adopt, so he tried again. "That is, I want Ghirahim… to stay."

Zelda regarded him silently. Then without warning, her hands gripped the sides of his head, his hat pushed back for better access.

"Hey!" he protested, trying and failing to tear himself free. "What are you doing?"

"If this is a curse, there should be a residue," she muttered, and Link's struggles died down immediately. "Ghirahim can do things to people, Link. Twist their minds, or their hearts. I was sure your spirit was strong enough to resist, but if he's tried it on you..."

Link stood still, hardly daring to breathe as warm power trickled through him. Could Ghirahim have done something to him? He almost wished he had—then at least he'd have a reason for feeling the way he did—but something deep inside of him knew that the decision was entirely his own. Sure enough, Zelda released his head with a dissatisfied grunt, pressing a hand against his forehead.

"Nothing," she said, frustrated. "You're perfectly fine, as far as I can tell. You're not even sick."

"Good," Link said, pulling back to straighten his hat once more. It was hard enough keeping it on his head without people tugging at it.

"Not good," she snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. "That means that you just told me, of your own free will, that you intend to make Ghirahim a permanent resident of Skyloft when you have an option to the contrary."

"Not Skyloft," Link said emphatically, shaking his head. "I wouldn't keep him there. Besides, I talked to Pipit about his patrol last night, and he told me that your father's Remlit attacked him, and... that there were Keese on the island." Neither of those things had happened since Batreaux was transformed into a human. It didn't take a genius to connect their recurrence to another demon's arrival. "I think I'd better make the move to the surface, just to be safe."

"Pipit didn't mention any of that," Zelda murmured mostly to herself. "Though he was distracted by…" Her words faded away, and when she spoke again, she sounded hurt. "You say that so easily. I've been trying to convince you to move to the surface for weeks, but you kept on putting me off."

"I'm sorry," he told her, and he meant it. He had been sure that she stayed in the sky only for his sake, though he'd told her more than once that she didn't have to. "It's not like that, though. There just wasn't a need for me to move until now, and… you know that I haven't been… feeling well."

"Yes!" she said eagerly, jumping on his words. "Yes, that's exactly why you should wait! You need more time to think. Once you're feeling better—"

"No," Link said again, shaking his head. "This is going to help. I can feel it."

"Ghirahim is going to help," she repeated skeptically, her patience wearing thin. "Link, the goddess knew him during the ancient wars, long before either of us were even born. I don't think he's ever helped anyone in his life except by accident, unless there was some ulterior motive."

"He saved your life today," Link said, stopping her short. "I could have hurt you or worse if he hadn't stopped me in time. He saved my life, too, more than once. Explain that."

"I... can't," she admitted with a sigh. "I can't explain any of it. But I promise you that he had his reasons, even if we don't know what they are. If only—" She stopped, and something in her sudden hesitation worried him, as if she'd had an idea she thought he wouldn't like. "Yes. We need time to figure this out, and I'm afraid you're not thinking clearly. I need you to give me that sword." Link stiffened, backing up a few steps, and she hurried on. "Not permanently, just... long enough for you to make an informed decision. Please."

"An informed decision, or one that you agree with?" Link's heart thumped furiously as he realized that if he didn't comply, she might enlist Groose and Pipit's help in taking it from him. His hand reached unthinkingly over his shoulder until his mind caught up with the motion, and he stopped.

"What are you going to do?" she asked sadly, as if he'd confirmed the worst of her suspicions. "Fight me, and Pipit and Groose? Allow Ghirahim to attack us? Run away? This attachment you've formed isn't healthy, Link. You must realize that." Her self-assured tone raised the hairs on his neck. Zelda had always preferred getting her way to not, but this was more than that. These were the words of a goddess who knew best, whose very word was law.

"Listen to me." Link had to act carefully. Without the blindfold, he would have no way of finding the sword again if Zelda decided not to return it after all, which she very well might. "I know you're worried, but this is my decision to make."

"Don't fight me on this," Zelda snapped in frustration, and Link held up his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "You're acting as if I'm the enemy here. I'm your _friend,_ Link."

"Are you?" he challenged, wondering if Ghirahim was listening in somehow. He must have noticed by now that something was happening. "Are you a friend I can trust, or a goddess I'm just supposed to obey? You can't have it both ways."

"You would abandon our friendship over _him_?" Zelda said incredulously, but he noticed that he'd made her pause. Link pressed his advantage.

"Of course I wouldn't. This isn't about him right now. Just think for a second." He reached out a hand imploringly. "Zelda would never do something like this."

"I _am_ Zelda," she told him, taking his hand. "But I'm also the goddess now, too. I can't help but be both."

"I know you can't," Link said softly. "Listen, you want to talk? We can talk. I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'll stop trying to save you and you'll stop trying to protect me, and we can just be friends again, like we were. I just need you to trust me when I say that this is something I need to do, okay?"

"I'd... like that a lot," Zelda said haltingly, stepping forward, and Link's face relaxed into a smile that froze as she ran a gentle finger down the thin cut on his cheek that Ghirahim had made. "Those Bokoblins couldn't have done this." Mutely, he shook his head, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, Link. After everything you've done for me… I have to return the favor."

Link felt her resolve in the note of finality as she spoke, in the way her hand tightened around his, and he finally had his moment of clarity. This was the only window of hope he'd managed to find in months, and he couldn't let it slip away.

"Ghirahim!" he shouted, pulling his hand free, at the same time that Zelda started yelling, "Pipit! Groose! I need you!"

A heartbeat later Ghirahim was there gripping him by the arm, but Zelda already had his other arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Let go!" Link said, struggling furiously to free himself as he heard Groose and Pipit enter the room, slowly at first, then faster as they caught sight of the conflict. "Ghirahim, we need to get to the flame!"

"Get your hands off him," Ghirahim hissed, and to Link's horror, he heard a sharp crack. Zelda cried out, her hands starting to slip, and Groose roared.

"Don't hurt her!" Link shouted, and Ghirahim growled in frustration.

"Then who can I hurt?"

Zelda's grip had fallen to the metal guard over his forearm, and Link had an idea. Twisting surreptitiously, he brushed his other hand up to undo the latch, and Zelda gasped in dismay as it fell apart in her hands.

"Link!"

Link was already gone, the air squeezing in on him like a metal vice for only a second before he stumbled forward, disoriented. The soft crackle of flames told him where they were, as did the muffled shouting from the other room. They were close now, but it wasn't over yet.

"Can you block the door?" Link asked, unbuckling the straps to free Demise's sword from his back. No time to think. He had to keep moving.

Ghirahim laughed, a sinister sound that made him nervous. "I have a better idea."

"Don't hurt them!" Link called as the demon disappeared and the shouts from outside abruptly stopped. He winced, realizing he'd been giving orders left and right, but he couldn't risk his friends' lives on Ghirahim's unreliable mercy. The demon had been right about that, as much as Link hated to admit it. Someday, maybe, but not yet.

With fumbling hands, he undid the fabric that bound the sword, running a slow finger down the flat of the blade. He could feel the sword's darkness within and wondered if that was the corruption Zelda had spoken of. How much was from Demise, and how much from Ghirahim himself?

"There," Ghirahim said with satisfaction, appearing again nearby. "That should keep them occupied."

"What did you do?" Link asked warily, suspicious of Ghirahim's barely contained laughter. _Something_ was happening in the other room, but he could no longer tell what. At least they weren't banging on the door.

"Nothing you didn't already dispense with easily," he said dismissively. "It should pose no threat to them, assuming they don't just wear those swords for decoration. So, this is the flame of Farore?"

Link grunted. If he'd brought back the cursed Bokoblins, that wouldn't hold them back for long. Once they figured out how the creatures died, Zelda and the rest would make it through quickly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, lifting the sword by its hilt. "Once we start, there's no going back."

"I could say the same to you, Link." Two fingers slipped beneath his chin to lift it up, and Link imagined Ghirahim studying his face intently. "This morning, you did not know what you wanted. Now you defy your goddess in my defense."

"Don't make me change my mind," Link muttered, a pang running through him. Zelda would come around eventually. She had to. Abruptly, Link realized how close Ghirahim had become, his hot breath caressing Link's face. He shivered, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his own ears. A small, distant part of him wondered what would happen next. If Ghirahim leaned in any further...

"We must hurry," Ghirahim said, releasing his chin, and Link blinked as if coming out of a trance. "How does this flame work?"

"I…" This seemed like a bad time to admit that he didn't know. "I couldn't see what happened, but Fi told me that she entered the flames, and then they... shot from her into the sword."

"She entered the holy flames," Ghirahim said flatly. "Unharmed, I presume?"

"Yeah." Link licked his lips, seeing quickly what Ghirahim meant. "She wasn't a demon, though, was she?"

"She was not," Ghirahim agreed. Were the flames useless to them after all? Zelda had seemed so sure... "But she was a sword."

Link felt the rising darkness before he heard it, a dull noise rising in pitch and volume that swept upwards, enveloping them. When it retreated, Ghirahim stepped away, his footsteps clanking in a familiar sound that reverberated through Link's soul.

"Farore is the goddess of courage, is she not?" Ghirahim said with harsh amusement, his voice somehow more metallic than it had been. "How fitting."

Link started. For just a moment, memories of the last time Ghirahim had taken this form threatened to overwhelm him, but the gravity of their situation pulled him back.

"You're sure about this?" he asked again, a part of him still disbelieving.

"There is no time to be otherwise." Ghirahim laughed to himself, a low, gravelly sound. "Ah, sky child. The things you make me do…"

There was a reverberating snap, and Link realized that Ghirahim had entered the flame. Holding his breath, Link waited, growing more nervous by the second.

"Ghirahim?" he said eventually, starting to panic when he got no response. What if the demon had misjudged the danger? Nothing had succeeded in killing Ghirahim so far—sometimes Link wondered if it was even possible—but ancient magic like this...

"Ready your weapon, Link," Ghirahim ground out painfully, and Link breathed a sigh of relief, holding out his sword. "This power is… It's…"

He screamed, and flames hissed towards Link, shooting into the blade. Grunting under the impact, Link held it aloft as best he could, cringing more at Ghirahim's unending shriek than at the fire that flickered along the edge of his hands. It didn't burn him like normal flames would, though it did feel hot. Instead the flames seemed to bite into his spirit, burning away at the darkness inside. Link wondered bitterly if there was more of that in him now than there had been before. If Ghirahim was in the middle of that fire...

Abruptly, the screams ceased, as did the flames and their assault. The sword in his hands hummed, power coursing up and down its length, and then a shattering noise split the air as it changed. Link hefted the blade experimentally in his hands, marveling at the fact that he could do so. It wasn't as light as his old sword had been—he would still need two hands to use it effectively—but he actually stood a chance at wielding it now.

With a groan, Ghirahim pushed himself to his feet, walking forward slowly. His gait had the uneven sound of limping, but Link resisted the urge to ask if he was alright, knowing that the demon would not appreciate his sympathy. Instead, he held out the sword.

"How is it?" he asked. Ghirahim stopped, regarding the weapon silently.

"I should have known that I couldn't help but be beautiful," he said at last, and Link grinned.

"Not mutilated, then?"

"Not entirely." He paused. "It feels... incomplete."

Link shrugged, moving to sheathe it before remembering that it had none.

"I guess it would. There are still two flames to go." At a large crash from the adjoining room, Link jumped, whirling around. "What was that?"

"Koloktos, I assume," Ghirahim said, ignoring the way Link froze. "He must be attacking the columns."

"You brought back _Koloktos_?" Link snapped, panic coursing through him. If anything had happened to Zelda... "I thought it was just the Bokoblins!"

Running towards the room as quickly as he dared, Link stopped short as his blade rammed against the wall, pressing himself against it to feel around for the door. He had told Ghirahim not to hurt them, but maybe summoning something to do the job for him didn't count. He should have known that the demon would be adept at finding loopholes.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he shouted when Ghirahim did nothing.

"I am not… restored to full strength yet," Ghirahim said stiffly, and Link realized that the flame must have taken even more out of him than he'd guessed. "It was three against one, and you defeated the creature on your own. Your friends will be fine."

"If they're not," Link started to say, but then the stone beneath his hands started to shift. Eyes widening, Link stumbled back. They must have defeated the mechanical beast after all… which meant they were free to pursue Link once more. How many of them had made it?

"I cannot hold them back without exhausting the rest of my strength," Ghirahim said, and Link nodded slowly.

"Can you get us out of here?" he asked, and Ghirahim took a deep breath.

"I can. Barely."

"Good." Link backed up enough to be within arm's reach of the demon, listening intently. "Wait for me to tell you when."

"As my master commands," Ghirahim murmured, and the door was finally pulled open.

"Link!" Zelda's voice, ragged but still alive, made Link's knees go weak with relief. There was at least one other person with her, but he couldn't pick out who. Pipit, or Groose? Both?

"I see that you all survived, albeit a bit worse for wear," Ghirahim announced, and Link felt a rush of relief. The demon's voice rang out with no hint of weakness-a bluff to hold them back. "I must admit, I expected more from you. Link once defeated that creature all on his own. Perhaps you'd like to lecture him again on daring to venture out without your permission?"

"Okay, will someone explain what's going on?" Pipit demanded, stepping forward. "Link, what's happening? This isn't the same guy from before."

"It is," Groose said grimly, and Link winced inwardly. He'd forgotten that Groose had his own reasons to hate the spirit. "He can change, and do all sorts of stuff. Don't take your eyes off him for a second."

"Ahh, we have met before, haven't we?" Ghirahim said with vicious delight, and Link wished he could shut him up. "Still sporting that unfortunate haircut, I see."

"You're not helping," Link snapped in exasperation as Groose growled. "Listen, this is all a big misunderstanding. We're not trying to hurt anyone."

"Oh yeah?" Groose snorted. "So he just summoned that creepy robot monster to attack us on accident, is that it?"

Link hoped his expression conveyed to Ghirahim just how much he intended to strangle him over that later.

"A _very_ big misunderstanding," he emphasized.

Zelda, who had watched without speaking beyond her initial shout of relief, now spoke. "Ghirahim must do as Link tells him to. I'm assuming you ordered him not to attack us directly, is that correct? Which is why he resorted to using Koloktos to hold him back. And… I can see that you managed to use the sacred flame." She took a deep breath. "Holy power like that would weaken any demon. My guess is that Ghirahim can barely stand."

"That is foolishness," Ghirahim hissed, but he could do nothing to disprove her words. The other knights moved forward, emboldened, and it was all Link could do not to back away.

"But… I don't understand," Pipit said slowly. "If Link controls this… Ghirahim… then how can he be kidnapping Link?"

"He's not," Link said angrily. "Zelda, he's not controlling me! I need you to listen!"

"Pipit, you saw him with the sword yesterday," Zelda said. "You saw how attached to it he already was. Groose, you've met Ghirahim before. He is dangerous, and the illusion of power gained from having any control over him at all just makes him more so." Her voice became soothing. "Please, Link. We don't want to fight you. We just want you to come home."

Link wanted to scream with frustration. The worst part was that her logic made sense. In no time at all, the rest of the knights would be hunting him down across the surface, as certain as Zelda that they were saving his life. He could hardly expect them to believe that Ghirahim had anything other than ulterior motives after what they'd seen him do... and she was the goddess.

"Link, she's right," Pipit said reluctantly. "I hate to say it, but you've been headed towards a breakdown ever since you came back with Zelda all those months ago. Let's just all take a minute to cool off, okay?"

Link heard him step forward again, and this time he did back up, crouching as if to flee though there was nowhere to go.

"Don't come any closer," he warned. He realized suddenly that he was still holding out the sword, and quickly lowered the point, trying to look as not crazy as possible. "Ghirahim saved Zelda's life today. Did she tell you that?"

"No offense, but we were so busy fighting for our lives that she didn't get the chance," Groose said wryly. "Just listen to her, buddy. She has your best interests at heart. Besides, aren't you supposed to be the goddess's chosen hero or something?" _That_ stung more than he'd expected it to.

"We won't try to take away your sword," Zelda told him, still in that soothing voice. "You're right, I shouldn't have tried to do that. Let's just head back to Skyloft together, okay? We won't touch anything without your permission."

Link straightened slowly.

"Do you promise?" he asked, and thought he could feel Ghirahim tense.

"...I promise." Her hesitation was clear. With a sinking sensation, Link realized that he couldn't trust her to keep it either way. That stung, too—Zelda was his best friend, someone he could trust above all—but Link imagined himself in her situation and realized that there was no promise he himself would not break to keep her safe. How could he expect her to act any differently? "Come with me and we can talk, just like you wanted."

"You know I love you, right?" he said quietly. He wasn't sure why he said it or in what way he meant it, but he knew it was true.

"I know," she said gently. "I love you too. Now come."

Link nodded. "Please don't try to follow me." It was pointless, but he had to try. "I'll come back when I'm done. I promise."

Zelda gasped, and Link didn't wait around to find out what she had to say. He held out his hand, and Ghirahim grasped it, the world compressing in on them once more.

They landed in the shallow pool outside the cistern, Link's boots splashing in the thin layer of water, and he closed his eyes as the world spun, fear and adrenaline-fueled focus coursing through him. Lightning raised the hair on his neck, and he barely dodged in time as it came crashing exactly where he'd stood moments before—

"Come back to me, Link," Ghirahim said, a hand brushing his cheek, and Link's eyes flew open with a gasp.

"Sorry," he said automatically, and Ghirahim breathed a weak laugh.

"You are… hopeless," he panted, then groaned. "The goddess was right, as much as it pains me to admit it. I need to… rest in the sword for a bit. Will you make it on your own?"

"I'll be fine," Link told him roughly. "Do what you need to do. I have a plan."

Ghirahim laughed again, dissolving into the sword in Link's hand. _The very prospect… terrifies me._ He didn't mention what had happened in the cistern. There was no need.

Link whistled for his Loftwing, and felt its concern as it landed nearby, alighting gently over the water.

"Fly fast," Link murmured as he flung himself up, holding the safety harness in one hand and the sword in the other. He still had time before the others made it out, time before they got back to Skyloft and mobilized a search. A bit of time, maybe. Not much.

Link didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he did both, tears of bitter mirth streaming down his face as he flew. Nothing to do but move on.

"Fly fast."


	13. Chapter 13

Updating sooner than expected this time. I'm DEFINITELY not going to have time for this again until April, though, so I let this chapter go a little long. Otherwise I probably would have broken it off about 2/3rds of the way through... but nobody's seemed to have a problem with long chapters so far, so whatever XD Anyway, please enjoy

* * *

Sparks flew beneath Gondo's hammer as he gave his newly invented device one final strike, settling back to observe his handiwork with a proud grin. His saint of a mother had grudgingly put up with his explosive messes for years, washing his greasy clothing whenever he was too caught up in a project to remember to do so (which was unfortunately most of the time). She'd complained about it daily, wearing her hands almost to the bone hunched over her well-worn washboard, but still she'd done it. He could never repay her for that, but this new washing machine he'd designed would at least lighten the load. It had been a long time in the making, but with this final piece finished, he thought he could finally make the thing work.

"Gondo!"

Gondo jumped guiltily, whirling around. He should have been keeping a closer eye on the shop, but he could never resist tinkering when things were slow. To his surprise, Link stood at the counter, hands cupped around his mouth to make himself heard.

"Hey there, Link!" he boomed, ambling over to help him. "Whatcha got for me today?" He wasn't sure that he believed all the stories he'd heard of what Link got up to on the surface—it was a lot to swallow, even if the poor kid had been able to see—but Link had certainly made a habit of bringing interesting stuff to his table in those strange months before the clouds cleared away. Gondo would never forget the day Link had wandered in, offering up the ancient flower he needed as if it were nothing and single-handedly turning his lifelong passion project from a dream into reality. Some time had passed since he'd seen the kid last, though. From the look of him, he might have been sick.

His eyes lit up as Link laid a long black sword across the counter, the bazaar's muted light catching the lightly etched diamond pattern carved across the blade.

"I need a way to carry this," Link said, gesturing to the weapon as if there could be any doubt of his meaning. "Something that lets me draw it quickly, if possible."

"A sheath, huh?" It wasn't the most stimulating work Link had ever brought him, but money was money, and at least he'd get to examine the blade. Gondo has dabbled a bit in swordsmithing, but he'd never managed to produce anything close to this quality. "For a sword that size, you're looking at about—"

"I need it in five minutes," Link interrupted him, dropping a handful of rupees on the counter along with the weapon, and Gondo choked.

"Five minutes? It doesn't matter how much you pay me, I'd need at least a day—" He cut off. There was a silver rupee in that pile. If he'd been a money-grabbing merchant like Rupin he might have taken it, but he wasn't. "Kid, you'd better check your wallet again," he said gruffly. "That's too much money."

"Keep it all," Link said impatiently. Now that Gondo looked closer, he seemed eager to be off, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. "I don't care. It doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to work. Can you do it?"

"I…" Gondo tilted his head. It wouldn't cover the blade, but if he fastened a strap to the back of Link's leather harness and snapped it below the hilt… "I'll have to leave the blade bare, but I think I can do that."

"Great!" Link's face lit up with relief, though he gave up the sword with obvious reluctance. "I'll be here for it in five minutes."

"What's the big hurry?" Gondo asked, already digging into the bin that held his leather supply. He hated to rush any project, even one this small, but he thought Link would snap at him if he tried to take his time.

"Bokoblins," Link said after a moment. "In the forest. I just have a couple errands to run and then I'm off. Four minutes now!"

He slipped away before Gondo could say anything else, moving nimbly across the large tent with his stick to feel the way. Gondo shrugged, turning back to his work. Even without the silver rupee (which he still planned on giving back), it was a lot of money for what he'd been asked. Link had never earned all that working for the Academy. Maybe he really _should_ go exploring the surface if there was cash like that lying around.

Hefting the sword to measure beneath the hilt, a frown crept over his features. There was something… ominous about the weapon, beyond the danger of a normal sword. Something that made him uneasy. He wanted to laugh at himself for even thinking it—the people in town had always teased him for being a dreamer—but holding this sword, he found laughter impossible. What could Link want with a sword like this?

Grimacing, Gondo set the weapon aside, determined to touch it only when necessary. Five minutes suddenly felt like too long to keep it. Maybe he wouldn't be setting foot on the surface anytime soon after all. Maybe some things were best left to the knights.

* * *

Each second that passed seemed longer than the second before, impossible though that was, and Peatrice sighed in despair. On slow days like today (like every day), she usually tried to lose herself in fantasies to while away the time, but for some reason her daydream refused to come together like it should. Determinedly, she closed her eyes, envisioning the man who would someday come along and save her from this drudgery. He'd be strong and kind, with blue eyes and… no! No, blue was a boring color. She preferred green eyes, or the kind of warm brown that melted hearts. He would certainly not be blonde, either. Blonde hair was beyond overrated. Red hair, on the other hand… that was something she could get behind. Yes, red hair and brown eyes. He would be tall, too. Tall men made Peatrice all weak-kneed, so he would definitely have to be tall.

...On the other hand, short men weren't so bad. Short men with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a tender smile and...

Abruptly, a familiar green tunic caught her eye in the middle of the uncrossed bazaar, and she scowled as the handsome knight she'd tried so hard not to think of came walking towards her. This was the second time in two days! It was just like before, when he'd first started visiting her shop again and again. Not many people used her services so often. What was she supposed to think aside from that he liked her?

She'd been wrong, though, as he'd already made abundantly clear. Her only solace was that nobody else had managed to snag him yet, either. Oh, it was clear that Zelda liked Link from the way she practically hung on him, and he didn't exactly seem to mind it either, but she was sure they would have hooked up by now if he felt the same. She got a pang of guilty pleasure every time she thought about it, though she'd never admit it out loud. Zelda was nice enough and Peatrice didn't dislike her, but it was good to know that even pretty girls got rejected.

Still, she'd thought she might at least stand a chance with someone who couldn't tell the difference.

"Welcome to the Item Check," she droned determinedly, as if sheer apathy could drive him away. "Dropping off… picking up… you know how it goes. What'll it be?"

"Picking up," Link said, and she noticed with satisfaction that he looked uncomfortable, as if he wanted nothing more than to run away. Did he feel guilty for the way he'd led her on? Let him. "I need my gust bellows, please."

"Sure, whatever." Turning around to search through Link's storage compartment, Peatrice wished she didn't have even his belongings memorized by heart. Then again, the stuff he stored was usually more interesting than everyone else's run of the mill valuables. "You want anything else while you're here? Looks like you have a quiver… a slingshot… a harp…" Maybe she could head off another encounter by giving him the item now. Maybe if she started charging him for storage space, he'd stop visiting her entirely.

Hands raised on the point of refusing, Link hesitated.

"I'll take the harp," he told her. "The rest can stay."

"Sure." With a grunt, Peatrice pushed the compartment back into place, setting the items down on the counter with a thud. "One harp, and one… whatever this thing is."

"A gust bellows," Link said, gathering his items and slipping them into one of the various pouches he wore. "It's useful in the desert, you know? Helps with getting rid of sand."

"Anything else?" Peatrice asked wearily, deciding that even the depths of boredom were better than this terribly awkward small talk.

"No," he said after a short pause, and it came to Peatrice suddenly that he looked tired, too, weary beyond comprehension. Blood smudged his cheek—how had she failed to notice that?—and his sad blue eyes drew her in. "Thank you, Peatrice."

Watching him walk hurriedly away, Peatrice forgot to even say goodbye, much less comment on men who didn't know what they were missing out on. Maybe he really was a hero, like some people said. He didn't seem like the type—too quiet, too short, not nearly broad enough in the shoulders—but if he was… if he was, then maybe falling in love with him had been inevitable. Girls fell in love with heroes in the stories all the time, and that love often went unrequited. Yes, she liked this idea very much. There was no shame in falling in love with a hero, even if he never loved her back.

Still, she thought, boredom settling in once more, he didn't have to walk away quite so quickly. She didn't think she'd been as unpleasant as _that_.

Only when the knights burst into the bazaar tent not long after did Peatrice start to guess that maybe it wasn't her he'd been running from at all.

* * *

Fledge kicked glumly at the ground as he walked down the deserted path to the graveyard, trying not to look up at the sky where Loftwings and their riders soared above. He should be up there with them—he had a test on advanced aerial techniques coming up that he wasn't even close to prepared for—but after trying and failing all morning to get them right, he'd finally given up.

There was no good reason for it. If he fell off his Loftwing, he was a whistle away from climbing back on, and he'd even purchased a sailcloth just in case. Still, every time he was in the middle of a move and caught sight of the ground below, he just… froze. The clouds hadn't been so bad. They'd been shapeless and bland, unthreatening in their uniformity despite the fact that nobody knew what lay beneath. Now he knew exactly what was down there—trees, stone, and the distant, unforgiving ground—and for reasons he couldn't explain, that knowledge paralyzed him. He never would have guessed that after years of flying without problem, he would suddenly find himself afraid of _heights._

He sighed. Just one more fear to add to the pile, he supposed. Things had mostly improved since Link started helping him train, and he often surprised people with his strength, but this wasn't a problem he could muscle his way through. He was starting to suspect that he was a coward at heart, no matter how hard he tried to be brave. If that was true, how was he ever supposed to be a good knight?

Somebody ran into Fledge with a mumbled apology, and it took him a second to recognize the familiar figure pushing past him.

"Link?"

Link stopped, spinning around.

"Oh, hey Fledge," he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, nothing," Fledge was glad Link couldn't see his cheeks go pink. So few people hung out at the graveyard that he'd been hoping he could practice without anyone watching him… though he supposed he still could, at that.

An idea came to him then, and he brightened.

"Hey, Link? I know you mastered those aerial techniques I've been working on ages ago, but if you're not too busy, I was wondering if you could help…"

The pained regret on Link's face made the answer clear even before he finished the question.

"I'm sorry, Fledge," he sighed. "I would if I could, but I really have to get going. Maybe… when I get back."

"Oh! No problem." Link did seem to be in a hurry, practically backing away even as they spoke. He'd just have to figure it out on his own. "Where are you headed?"

Link gave him a funny look.

"Eldin Volcano," he said at last. "I have a few things to take care of there. Actually, I hate to ask for a favor when I can't help you, but…" Reaching around his back, Link removed the sheathed sword the Academy had lent him, holding it out in front of him. Fledge took it curiously. "Could you take this back to Eagus for me? I meant to do it myself, but I ran out of time."

"Of course! But why are you…" For the first time, Fledge really noticed Link, along with the much larger sword still strapped to his back. "Is that… that's the same sword from this morning, isn't it?" He felt silly as soon as he said it—that sword had been enormous, while this one was just big—but then he saw the red gem on the hilt that he could swear had glared at him before, and he realized with a start that he was right. It wasn't glaring now, though. Its reflective light muted, Fledge almost would have said that the sword was asleep, though that seemed equally silly.

"It is," Link confirmed, nodding. "I think… I'll be using this sword from now on." Quiet satisfaction filled his voice, and for just that second Link looked more content than he had in ages, his mouth set in a weary smile. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"Of course," Fledge said again. "You, uh, you be careful down there." Fledge had never set foot on the volcano himself—he'd only been brave enough to visit the forest so far, and even that he'd only seen a few times—but he'd heard enough stories to know it was dangerous. "Are you meeting up with another knight?"

Link grimaced so fiercely he wished he hadn't asked.

"No," he said shortly, turning to continue down the path before suddenly whirling back around. "Listen, Fledge… Zelda's going to be here soon and she's going to tell you a lot of stuff about me, but it's not true. You have to believe me." He stared at Fledge pleadingly, his blue eyes gazing right through him. "None of it is true."

"What's wrong?" Fledge asked slowly, a deep foreboding settling over him. Something was very wrong, though he couldn't yet say what. "Did you two get in a fight?"

"You could say that," Link muttered under his breath, and the unease grew. Link and Zelda never fought—or at least, not like this. "I just wish I had one person who would take my side over… well, never mind. The goddess knows best, right?" Link's grin was lopsided now, his eyes both laughing and desperate. "You'll take that to Eagus for me?"

"Maybe you should stick around. You might feel better if you talk it out before you go," Fledge suggested, squinting past Link into the sky. "Actually, I think I see her bird—"

Panic flickered across Link's face, and he backed up a few steps.

"No time!" he almost shouted, whirling back the way he'd been going. "I just… I'll talk to you later, okay? Good bye, Fledge."

Watching Link hurry down the path with his stick tapping ahead of him, Fledge turned slowly back towards the Academy, telling himself that he'd just imagined the note of finality to Link's goodbye. What had Link done to make Zelda mad… or rather, what would Zelda say he'd done? That didn't make sense at all. It was hardly like Zelda to lie, but Link's eyes had looked so pained…

He had to find out. Brow set with determination, Fledge picked up the pace. He would take the sword back to Commander Eagus, and then he would track down Zelda to find out what had happened. Whatever it was, there had to be a way to move past it, and Fledge wanted to help where he could. They were both his friends, after all

Flight practice would just have to wait, though he hardly minded that.

* * *

Zelda listened quietly as Pipit relayed news of the search to her, seated in her father's office with Mia mewing contentedly at her feet. None of it was good.

"We've been sweeping the forest, but so far no luck," Pipit grimaced, rubbing absently at his shoulder. A red potion had cleared up the worst of the injuries they'd sustained fighting the mechanical beast Koloktos, but the memory of pain had remained long after the wound closed, as if the body had healed faster than the mind. She resisted the urge to rub at her own ankle where a fallen column had pinned her. If Groose hadn't been there to pull it off… "We have people in the air and on the ground, but it's a big forest and he's wearing green." Pipit forced a laugh, but he just sounded tired. "He'd be easy to miss even if the light was still good."

The light was not good anymore, the sun almost touching the horizon. Soon the knights would have to pull out if they wanted to reach Skyloft before dark, leaving Link to brave the night alone. No, worse than that—wherever he was, he would _not_ be alone. He had his very own demon for company, one determined to steal her oldest friend away from her.

Zelda refused to give him up, not without a fight, but for the moment Ghirahim seemed to be winning. Despite her initial confidence that they would track him down easily, the day had passed and Link was still nowhere to be found.

All anyone knew for sure was that Link had visited Skyloft before moving on, with a different story for everyone he met. He'd fed Gondo some tale about Bokoblins in the forest, but promised Strich to keep an ear out for desert cicadas. From Luv he had purchased a newly developed heat-resistance potion, mentioning that it would come in handy while exploring Eldin. Only Peatrice had refused to say anything other than that she'd seen him—according to a bemused Pipit, she had declared passionately that she would never betray her "darling" and that "unrequited love is still love"—but unless they really did have a secret love affair, Zelda was sure that whatever Link had told her was as useless as all the rest: false trails, laid to cover any hint of a real trail he might have left.

It would have been almost funny under any other circumstance. Zelda wanted to slap and hug Link all at once, then never let him out of her sight again.

"Call everyone back," she said with a sigh, forcing her hands to relax their grip on the edge of her tunic. She had been so sure Link would choose the forest to hide… but she couldn't ask knights unused to the surface to brave it at night without provisions or a place to sleep. "Perhaps the others had more luck. Keep an eye on his Loftwing, though, just in case." Watching the crimson bird had proven fruitless so far, but there was still time for Link to change his mind, or… or something.

Pipit nodded and, to her surprise, offered an awkward half-bow before he straightened and hurried out, looking embarrassed. That was something new. He must have gotten the idea from Link, maybe not realizing that Link had intended his actions to wound. It didn't hurt as much coming from Pipit—something about it even felt familiar—but it was still another step removed from the headmaster's daughter she'd been.

A part of Zelda mourned that, though she supposed it was inevitable. To those like Pipit who had embraced the move to the surface with her, it must be clear that there was something… more to her than there had been before.

"It seems that Link is trying very hard not to be found," her father said from behind her, and she glanced back to see him scratching at his trimmed mustache. He had allowed her to direct his knights in the search for Link, but his doubts about it were clear. "Have you considered that it might be best to allow him to finish this quest he's embarked on? I can't help but think that enforcing Link's safety has not worked well for you so far."

Zelda shook her head ruefully. No chance of too much deference from him. "This is different, father. The demon in Link's sword has no reason to be aiding Link the way he is, and every reason to want revenge." He was right about the other, though. Would Link have been restless enough to seek out Ghirahim in the first place if she hadn't sheltered him so thoroughly that he felt it was his only option? "Ghirahim is the one who sent the tornado to steal us from the sky in the first place. I can't let him go free without understanding what he's after."

"Hmmm…" His face darkened, and she knew she'd made her point. "Well, maybe the riders we sent to the mountain and the desert will have found something. Link is no fool, though. He knows all that as well as you."

"I never said he was," Zelda snapped, then took a deep breath. She didn't want obedience from those around her, no matter what Link accused her of. She just wished it was not so hard to convince others of the wisdom of her words sometimes. "Link is not a fool, but he is…" _Sick. Vulnerable._ "...Hurting. I don't want to see him taken advantage of."

"I know," her father sighed as he heaved himself to his feet, face softening with concern. "You've always had a special place in your heart for helping Link. I just hate to see the two of you make each other so miserable." He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, and Zelda leaned in, wondering if she was too old to hold on to him and cry. Probably. "If the knights will be returning soon, then I have things I must do. Tell Pipit he is relieved of his patrol duties tonight. You all need some rest." He waited for her to nod in mute assent before letting his hand fall and shuffling past her out the door with a final kiss on her head, leaving her alone.

As usual, he'd seen straight to the heart of things. Zelda still couldn't understand how two people with such good intentions could have failed each other so completely, but they had. It was as if a part of Link had not returned from his journey, the part that was quietly good-humored with a ready, if often sleepy smile, and she didn't know how to get him back. Those smiles were small and infrequent now, the quiet turned to cold silences that often stretched for hours. She missed her old friend desperately sometimes, even when he was sitting right next to her. If what he needed was for her to loosen her grip, to watch him go to battle with everyone else and say nothing… she could bite her lip and do it, and keep her worries close to her heart. But she couldn't watch him self-destruct at the hands of a demon who had already hurt them both so much. Link had to understand that, right?

The sun sank ever lower as she waited in taut silence, and one by one the search parties returned, Karane from Lanayru Desert with a short, regretful shake of her head, and Fledge from Eldin with the shell shocked expression he had worn when he first volunteered, as if even he couldn't believe his own nerve. Pipit slipped in behind them, his dragging shoulders saying more than enough. None of them had caught any sight of Link, although Groose had decided to remain in the forest searching. Of all of them, he was the most used to spending his nights on the surface, and Pipit said he'd promised to stay out for as long as he could still see his hand in front of his face. From the look in Pipit's eyes as he described it, she could almost pity Ghirahim if Groose managed to catch him vulnerable.

"Link will be okay, Zelda," Karane told her softly, and Zelda realized she was biting her lip, tears pooling in her eyes. "He's been through a lot. He can get through this."

"Of course." With a sharp sniff, she tilted her head back to keep the tears from falling. Zelda hated it sometimes, the pressure to be something beyond human, even if she imposed it on herself. "I'm sure he's perfectly safe in a tree somewhere. Knowing Link, he probably slept through the whole search."

That brought a few weak chuckles, unlikely though it was.

"Let's make plans for tomorrow, then," Pipit said briskly, rubbing his hands together as if he could single-handedly lift the room's mood. "We can start the search again in the morning. If we divide the land into sections—"

"No," Zelda interrupted him, massaging her temples. "Ghirahim will not remain indisposed for much longer, if he still is. Wherever they are now, by tomorrow they'll be headed to Eldin or Lanayru. The question is which flame they seek out first, and whether we focus on only one or split our strength to guard them both."

"Are you sure we need to take away his sword?" Fledge asked suddenly, and Zelda glanced up at him in surprise. Beyond his initial report, Fledge had barely said a word, though he had insisted on being the one to scout Eldin despite her initial objections. "Isn't there… I don't know…" He colored, avoiding her gaze. "...Some other way?"

"I'm afraid there isn't," she said regretfully. Not anymore. She should have taken Link up on his offer to talk. At least he would be in Skyloft then, and not off on his own… but what could he possibly have said that would sway her? "It is too dangerous to let him keep it. You have to trust me on this."

"Oh." Fledge said in a small voice. "It's just… he seemed so happy." He flushed to his roots at the sharp look Pipit sent his way, but Zelda felt only sympathy. It was what they all wanted for Link, but this wasn't the way. No, if there had been any doubt in her mind that she was doing the right thing, it had vanished on seeing the strength of Link's reaction. And Ghirahim… she shivered, remembering the furious light in his eyes before he'd attacked her, when she'd laid her hands on Link's arm. Almost as disturbing as Link wanting to wield his sword had been realizing that Ghirahim desired it just as much, if not more. At least Link would get a sword and a guide out of their arrangement, albeit an unpleasant one. What could Ghirahim hope to gain?

Mia hissed suddenly from beneath her, swatting at her feet, and Zelda raised an eyebrow.

"What's gotten into you tonight?" she murmured, shaking her head as she nudged the Remlit with one foot. Pipit eyed the animal warily before deliberately inching away.

"The flames, then," Karane said firmly. "Where are they exactly?"

"Din's flame is in the middle of the volcano, and Nayru's is on an invisible ship in the desert." Zelda smiled ruefully at the look on everyone's face. "They were not meant to be easy to find."

"Obviously," Pipit said. "We have our work cut out for us, but if Ghirahim can travel by snapping his fingers then Link will have no problem getting to either one."

"He won't make it out again so easily, though," Karane pointed out. "Not if this flame was any indication. If we can just make it there in the first place, we might be able to take him once Ghirahim is weakened… though that sounds like a big if. I'm not sure how Link managed it in the first place."

"Every ship is an invisible ship for him," Pipit muttered, and Karane slapped his shoulder.

"We are not without our resources," Zelda assured them. It was a good plan, though she disliked the necessity of allowing the forging process to continue. It would mean yet another thread tying Link and Ghirahim together, and there already seemed to be enough of those. "The dragons were originally tasked with protecting the flames. I'm sure they'll agree to aid us if we ask."

"That just leaves us with Link," Fledge said softly. From the expression on everyone's face, they all thought there was no "just" about it, and she wished she could put their worries to rest. Link would do what he could to evade them, she was sure, but he couldn't be so far gone that he'd attack them directly... could he?

Zelda flinched at the memory of Link's sword stopping inches from her face, Ghirahim's enigmatic stare pinning her down as if to let her know he regretted the necessity. No, that had been an accident. Link would never… not on purpose.

"He'll come around," she said wearily, her eyes slipping shut. There was more still to do, details to figure out and assignments to make, but she had barely slept the night before and the day had been exhausting in every way possible. She needed to rest her eyes, just for a moment. Then she could get back to work.

The other knights lowered their voices so as not to disturb her as her head slipped further down, but she didn't notice.

It could only be her imagination, but she thought she heard Ghirahim's cold laugh of triumph, his diamond magic flickering at the edge of her closed eyes. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? Only a couple nights ago she had been sure that Link had finally turned a corner. He still hadn't opened up to her, not entirely, but for the first time in weeks there had been hope that he might. Then he had turned to Ghirahim instead, dashing that hope to pieces.

Maybe she had made a mistake in forcing Link to choose between Ghirahim and herself, but she could not have imagined that events would play out the way they had. Ghirahim had _hurt_ him. He had hurt them _both._ She wanted to blame it on the seditious brand of magic the demon had been so fond of using in the ancient wars, the threads of betrayal and deceit woven masterfully from his agile fingertips, but the pieces didn't quite fit. In the old days, friend had drawn sword against friend at his whispered direction, attacking without provocation and abandoning goddess and kin, but Link was not so fully in Ghirahim's grasp. He had only wanted to run from them, not attack (though she had not missed the motion of his hand that said he had considered it), and he had tried his hardest to keep Ghirahim from even hurting them. In the end, Link had not so much turned against her as towards the demon, speaking of him with a desperate sort of hope as if he'd found his last chance at happiness, and that didn't make any sense at all.

Her mind strayed back to the carving she had found the night before everything fell apart, the one now sitting on the desk in front of her that she couldn't stop herself from looking at every few minutes. Its slight smirk mocked her growing worries. Zelda had seen the intense study Link gave to the things he eventually carved into wood, his lower lip slipping between his teeth as he mapped out proportions and angles with his quick, observant hands. Link had held her own face that way that same night, mapping it out carefully with hands that turned from tenderly tentative to desperate as his expression twisted with a harshness that was foreign on his gentle face. She knew logically what must have happened, but her mind resisted putting the obvious pieces together. Had Ghirahim hurt Link then? Something about the encounter had stayed with Link long after it should have vanished into the past, buried in time like the demon himself had been before Link dragged him up again. Maybe it was that it hadn'thurt.

There was clearly _something_ between them that she didn't understand, something so vivid and important that fate itself recognized its significance. She felt that it should have been obvious, but it wasn't. Why had that thread of destiny Link had followed not dissolved upon fighting their final battle? What more could there be between them? What did Ghirahim _want_?

"Zelda," Karane said softly, and Zelda jumped.

"I'm awake," she said, flushing. She couldn't fall asleep just yet. She had to reason her way through this, she had to _plan_.

"You shouldn't be," Karane told her firmly. "There's plenty of time to figure this out in the morning. Go to bed, and I'll let you know if there's any news. I'm good for hours yet."

"Get off me!" Pipit shouted suddenly, and Zelda gasped, her mind summoning diamonds and laughter and crashing waves of pain… but it was only Mia, attached viciously to Pipit's leg as he jumped comically through the air to dislodge her. "I'm telling you, this thing has it out for me!"

"I'll put her out," Zelda sighed, pushing herself to her feet. Karane was right. She couldn't think like this. "Mia's not usually like this. It's just—" The words seized in her throat as the truth came to her like the sun through parted clouds. "Link is still in Skyloft."

The others stared at her.

"What?" Karane asked after a moment, exchanging a glance with Pipit and Fledge. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure." Relief made her laugh, ignoring the others' concern. She should have seen it before. The sheer audacity of sending them all on this wild chase while he sat back the whole time and relaxed was just like Link… and he had told her himself why the Remlits had turned. "We'll have to do this carefully, but I think I know where he is."

Understanding came quickly, and in no time at all they'd put together a plan. Zelda looked at her friends' faces, Pipit and Karane mirrored images of determination and Fledge apprehensive but resolved, and her heart swelled with hope. Ghirahim would not get the chance to hurt them again. Link might take some more convincing, but he would come around eventually. How could he not, with so many friends determined to see him well again?

The darkness had already stolen much from her: her past self and future lives. She couldn't change the curse that had been put upon them, but some things she would not let stand. In this lifetime, at least, it would not have Link.

* * *

"Would you… ahhh… would you like another biscuit?"

Bemused, Link shook his head, and heard Batreaux set down the offered tray with a clatter.

"What about tea, would you like some tea?" he asked instead, more dishes rustling in his wake. Link couldn't say for sure, but he thought Batreaux must keep a very messy kitchen. "If you'll just give me a moment—"

"I'm fine," Link assured him. He felt a bit guilty, thinking about Zelda and the other knights worrying while he sat there being doted on by a demon-turned-fussy grandmother. Batreaux had been almost painfully accommodating since the moment Link knocked on his door asking for help, offering his home without hesitation. However, while Link had found himself relaxing as time passed with no sign of a search in Skyloft, his host had done the opposite.

"Are you comfortable? I could find you some more pillows."

"I'm very comfortable, thanks," Link said uncomfortably, already sitting in what felt like a sea of musty pillows. "It's enough that you're willing to let me stay here. Really, Batreaux, thank you."

"Oh, of course, of course," Batreaux said absently. "Now, Link…" Link knew what was coming next, having heard the question twenty times before. "You know of course that any favor you ask of me I will grant. I am forever indebted to you for allowing me to fulfill my dream of making friends with the people of Skyloft, but…" he hesitated. "Are you certain the goddess won't be angry with me?"

"She won't be," Link promised him yet again. "Zelda will understand. She's not even angry at me, really." He didn't think she was. He supposed he'd find out if she managed to track him down before he was ready, but he hoped he could avoid that.

"If you're sure…" Batreaux said, his large foot tapping quickly. A gust of wind rattled the scaffolding under the small home, causing it to sway beneath them, but he didn't seem to notice. "I don't mean to pry, of course, but… I mean, it's none of my business, so if you'd rather not say then I certainly understand, but… that sword on your back…" Link tensed, and he went on quickly. "Well, I may be a human now without the keen senses I once possessed, but even I could feel its emanating darkness the moment you set foot in my home. I assume that if there is anything the goddess wants from you, it must be that."

"...I guess it's not a secret or anything," he sighed, shrugging. "You're right." Link hadn't exactly been trying to hide it from him, though the thought had crossed his mind that the less Batreaux knew, the better. He wouldn't have come if he'd thought it might bring Batreaux any actual trouble, but Zelda might be suspicious, knowing he was once a demon himself. "It's hard to explain, but she wants to take this sword away from me, and I… can't let her do that."

"May I take a look at it?" Batreaux asked. "I have some familiarity with cursed items, after all."

"It's not cursed," Link said, reaching hesitantly over his back to detach it. Batreaux sounded mildly reproachful, probably thinking of the cursed medal he had reluctantly let Link have. In Link's defense, the curse had been quite mild, and easily removed by not wearing the medal. It hardly seemed worth all the fuss Batreaux had made over it. "It's just a sword. It used to belong to Demise before he died."

"Ghirahim," Batreaux said, stunned, and Link's breath caught in surprise.

"You know him?"

"Know him? Only from stories, Link. I am not so old as that. I don't imagine anyone is these days." Batreaux took the blade from him with great reverence, humming as he examined it. "Yes, that is the dark presence I felt, though perhaps not as strong as I would have expected. How curious." He placed the hilt in Link's hands once more, and Link reattached the leather loop gratefully, not liking being without it even for a second. "I must say, I would have thought his blade to have a greater presence. Why, I imagine even you could make use of this blade, and you are—forgive me for saying so—quite small."

"It used to be larger," Link said. He had known Batreaux was a demon, but somehow he had never made the connection that seemed obvious in hindsight. "What do you know about Ghirahim?"

"Oh, no more than any demon, I think, and nothing more than stories. Oh!" Batreaux jumped, the wooden floor reverberating under his feet. "If that is his sword, then… is the Demon Lord Ghirahim going to appear in my kitchen?" He sounded flabbergasted by the notion.

"Not anytime soon," Link reassured him, reaching back to run a hand over the hilt. No presence stirred beneath his fingers. "I think he's still recovering. What do the stories say?"

"I… well." He still sounded unnerved, which Link supposed he would be too if a figure he only knew from stories could appear in _his_ kitchen at any moment. "Well, I only know as much as any demon. He was the Demon King's sword, though I hear he was once a fearsome and bloodthirsty warrior in his own right, with dark magic to match. They say he had a way of swaying his opponents' minds so that they fought on his side, though his own loyalty to Demise never faltered once the Demon King bound him."

"Bound him?" Link repeated apprehensively. That didn't sound good.

"Within the sword, yes. I think it must have strengthened the weapon, unless Demise simply wanted Ghirahim's power more firmly under his control. He never had much patience for those who might oppose him. The things the two of them did… oh, all sorts of dreadful things." Batreaux shuddered audibly. "I prefer not to speak of it. I left that life behind me when I came to live here, you understand. I could never have dreamed that his sword would resurface in Skyloft of all places."

Link grimaced. It wasn't the most reassuring story he could have been told, though he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Of course Ghirahim's past would be as violent as his present. Somehow, though, he had never thought to wonder how Ghirahim had become a sword in the first place. He had assumed he was just made that way, like Fi… or had Fi also been someone else before?

There was something he'd mentioned that aligned with what Zelda had said, something that made Link pause.

"Would you know… if Ghirahim had done something to me?" he asked hesitantly, flushing. "To my mind?" Zelda hadn't found anything, but if it was even a possibility, he had to know before he threw his lot in with Ghirahim any further.

"Like he did with those soldiers, you mean? Well, I suppose the goddess could tell you better than I, but—no?" Link shook his head vigorously. "Well, I suppose…" Batreaux shuffled closer, placing thick hands on Link's head. "I am not as sensitive to these things as I once was, but I could certainly look."

An insistent knock on the door froze them both in place as Link's heart leaped into his throat. Slowly, he rose to his feet, pillows falling around him with gentle thumps. Would Zelda or the other knights knock if they thought he was here, or just rush in?

"You told me this place has a back entrance," Link said quietly. "Where is it?"

"I'm afraid it leads directly into the scaffolding," Batreaux replied, his voice louder than Link would have preferred. "It would be all too easy for you to lose your footing out there. Just stay put for a moment. It is not unheard of for me to have a visitor this late…"

He was gone before Link could protest, leaving him feeling uncomfortably exposed. Batreaux's small kitchen might have been out of sight of the doorway, but that felt like scant protection when he was effectively cornered.

The door creaked open, and the wind blew furiously through the house, carrying the earthy scent of dinner cooking throughout Skyloft and the high pitched squeal of Keese. Then a bright young voice met his ears, and Link sagged with relief.

"Hey there, Uncle Bats! How's it going?"

"Kukiel!" Batreaux sounded equal parts relieved and disapproving. "You know better than to come here at night! It's not safe to be out after dark." At another gust, the squeaks of the Keese grew louder as if to punctuate his words.

"Aww, but I wanted to play the scream-as-loud-as-you-can game," Kukiel whined. "I tried to play at home, but my mom just yelled at me. Pleeeeaaaase can we play?"

"Well…" he could hear Batreaux hesitating. "Okay, one quick game. But after that you must head straight home!" Link wished he would have tried a little harder to dissuade her—the last thing he needed was screams attracting anyone to the area. Then again, knowing Kukiel, she might have just gone ahead and screamed anyway.

"Great!" Kukiel beamed. "We'll scream on the count of three. One… two… three!"

Kukiel was an impressively loud screamer, though she was nothing compared to Batreaux himself, the enormous sound roaring out of him for as long as he had breath. Even listening from the other room, Link winced and put a hand over his ears. The scaffolding below him shifted as the wind picked up again, and the whole house swayed. Even the Keese went silent with surprise.

"There you go," Batreaux said as soon as the sound had faded away. "Now, I need you to—"

"Again, again!" Kukiel insisted. "I think I can scream louder than you this time if I try!"

"I—very well," Batreaux said, flustered. "Just once more, mind you."

This time, their screams made the floorboards shake, and Link wondered how securely attached this little house was. He supposed it wouldn't pull free any time soon, but it seemed worth mentioning later, just in case. Batreaux didn't have a Loftwing to catch him like the rest of them.

"Okay, Kukiel, that's enough," Batreaux said as the sound finally died down. The Keese outside squeaked furiously now, as if in competition. It was strange to hear them again, after so many nights without. "It's too dark for you to be out alone now. Let me walk you home—"

"One more time!" Kukiel pleaded, and Link nearly groaned, already knowing what the answer would be. Batreaux was such a pushover. "This is the last one, pinky promise! I've got a scream inside that's just gotta come out!"

"Kukiel…" Batreaux sighed. "This is absolutely the last time, you understand? Remember that you promised."

"I'll remember," she assured him. "On the count of three! One… two…"

 _The Keese_. Realization struck as the screams began again. He had told Zelda just that morning that the monsters were back in Skyloft thanks to Ghirahim. As soon as Kukiel was gone, he had to leave. If she noticed their presence and put two and two together—

With a short tug of resistance, the sword on his back was torn away, and all thought came to an abrupt halt.

"No!"

Arms snaked around him from behind before he could do anything else, pinning his own arms in a grip so firm that he could do little more than struggle and shout.

"Let me go!" he yelled, finally hearing the footsteps that had been lost in all that screaming as they retreated with his sword.

"I'm sorry," his captor whispered frantically in his ear, and he realized that it was Fledge who had him in that unrelenting grip. He must not have believed him after all, not that Link had really expected him to… but he'd hoped. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Thank you, Kukiel," Zelda said from the doorway, and Link's struggles stopped, his chest still heaving. "You did us a big favor."

"If you say so," Kukiel chirped. "I was just playing my favorite game."

"I-I-I, uh, th-that is, Y-your Grace—" Batreaux could not stop stammering. "You understand that I wasn't trying to—to h-hinder you in any way—"

"I understand, Batreaux," she said kindly. "I promise I'm not upset. I'm just grateful to know that Link has such good friends."

Link ducked his head as he heard her approach.

 _Wake up,_ Link thought desperately at the sword, but his mouth refused to make the words. If Ghirahim still had not appeared, it must be because he could not. He was on his own.

"Keep a good hold on that sword, Pipit," she murmured, stopping in front of him. "We don't want to take any chances."

"Zelda, please," Link whispered. He couldn't stop shaking, and Fledge's grip on him tightened convulsively. "Just let me go."

"Link, please don't be mad. It's the right thing to do." Her hand brushed across his bangs, and Link flinched back. She sighed. "Karane, take Kukiel home. Everyone else… let's go back."

"What's happening?" Kukiel asked loudly, her bright voice sounding worried now. "Where are they taking Link? Did he do something bad?"

"Hush now," Batreaux murmured, and he sounded resigned. There would be no help from him, not that there was anything he could do. Maybe he also thought it was for the best—nobody aside from Link himself seemed to think there was anything worth redeeming in the sword spirit. "This is for the adults to deal with. Let the nice knight take you home."

"But Uncle Bats!..."

Her protests faded into the distance as Karane lifted her with a grunt and carried her away. Fledge maneuvered Link's arms gingerly until they were clasped around his back, and Link let himself be moved, hopelessness spreading through his limbs as they started to walk. Once again he was blind and cornered, separated from his sword with no way out. He tried to pinpoint Pipit's location from the sound of his footsteps, but even that effort seemed pointless. Assuming he could break free of Fledge's grip, he'd still have to grapple with Pipit for a bare-bladed sword, and before he managed that he'd be captured once more. After all that running and hiding, he'd been embarrassingly easy to contain in the end.

Link sagged in Fledge's grasp as the future spread out before him in his mind, dull and lifeless. Nothing was going to change. He would wear out his hands on pointless carving with trips to the surface for mushrooms and flowers until Zelda decided he was "better", and even then there would be somebody dogging his tracks like there always was, somebody looking after him. Whatever the thread was drawing him and the demon together, Link would never find out. He'd be lucky to ever see Ghirahim again, assuming Zelda didn't throw the sword into the volcano at the first chance.

...Would she?

"What are you going to do with the sword?" Link mumbled, surprised by how his voice shook. She must have heard him, but long seconds passed and she didn't respond. "...Zelda?"

"I don't know," she said at last, and her tone made Link's chest tighten. So it _had_ occurred to her. Whatever else happened, he had to think of a way to convince her otherwise. If he behaved… maybe she would trust him enough to let him sheathe the sword in Ghirahim instead, possibly with an order to never return. It would take time and convincing, but he thought he could bring her around eventually. If only one of them could make it out of this alive, it might as well be Ghirahim.

"I don't like this," Fledge said uncomfortably, as if he'd caught Link's despair. Link raised his head slightly, but without expectation. "It doesn't feel right."

"I know," Zelda said grimly, and it was clear who she'd decided to blame. He would have to start convincing her soon. "Believe me, this is for the best. Things are going to change, Link, I promise. We'll find a way to make this right."

"It's going to be okay," Pipit assured him alongside her, awkwardly trying to inject some cheer into the tension as he always did. "I would have helped you out either way, but I feel like I owe you one, you know? I might never have realized my feelings for Karane if you hadn't pulled my head out of the clouds and made me see." His voice became soft. "Thanks to you, I get to experience passionate, unfettered love every day. You deserve the same, and I'm not going to let a demon take that away from you."

Link said nothing. Pipit's words echoed endlessly through this mind with the ringing force of a hammer. _Passionate, unfettered love_ … was that what this was? It didn't seem possible, though the idea was suddenly all-consuming. He wasn't sure that two people who had once tried their hardest to kill each other were even capable of sharing that emotion, or that Ghirahim was capable of feeling it, but there was something in him that couldn't stand the thought of separation, and it wasn't obsession or magic or some kind of curse. It was something… passionate.

Subtly, Link tested Fledge's grip on his arms. If it had loosened, it was only by a fraction. He might break free if he caught Fledge by surprise, or he might just end up wrestling to escape while Pipit took the sword further away. Still, he realized with growing certainty, he couldn't just go along with this, even if he was doomed to fail. There would be nothing passionate or unfettered about his life if Zelda got her way. And Ghirahim... if he ever spoke to the demon again, he had to be able to say that he'd tried.

"You're planning something," Fledge whispered in his ear, almost too quiet to hear, and Link tensed. Fledge didn't sound upset, just... nervous. Not quite daring to hope, Link half shrugged a shoulder.

"You'll never make it," Fledge told him, still in the softest voice he could manage while still being audible.

"I have to try," Link whispered back. Alone, escape with the sword would be impossible. With Fledge's help…

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you," Fledge told him in his tiniest voice yet.

The ground beneath Link's boots had changed to the plaza's uneven cobblestone. If they were headed to the Academy, then the sky must be to his left, his way uninhibited. Pipit's quick footsteps came from his right. If there was ever a time to break free, this was it. Fledge's hands trembled around his wrists, and Link decided that he couldn't wait for him to make up his mind. He had to do it now, before it was too late. _Three… two..._

"Go Link!" Fledge shouted, releasing Link's arms, and a second later there was the dull smack of flesh hitting flesh. Both Fledge and Pipit cried out in pain—he had probably never thrown a punch in his life—but within moments the hilt of a sword was pressed into his hands. "Run!"

Link didn't need telling twice. He ran, sprinting faster than he ever had in his life, ignoring the clamor that rose up behind him and praying that no loose cobblestone jutted out from the ground to trip him up.

"You punched me!" Pipit said, still disbelieving.

"I'm sorry!" Fledge yelled in a panicky voice, while at the same time Zelda screamed, "Link, wait! Please!"

Panting, Link surged forward, sure he was being chased, but they couldn't call their Loftwings at this time of night. His own Loftwing was roosting somewhere nearby, but Link didn't need him. He was headed straight for the surface.

The ground beneath his feet turned abruptly to wooden slats, then disappeared. Link launched himself into the air, legs still flailing, and began to fall. A shout from nearby reminded him belatedly of the night patrol meant to guard against this very thing, and he swung his sword wildly with a feral yell for him to stay back, hoping that whoever had spotted him would be smart enough to leave him alone. Sure enough, the dismayed shouts of the knight soon fell away, and he was left plummeting through the night.

It was then Link realized that he couldn't pull out his sailcloth and hold a sword at the same time.

Gritting his teeth, Link fought against the force of the rushing air to swing the sword around his back, increasingly aware that he had no idea when the surface below might suddenly strike. Fumbling his fingers over the leather strap, Link tried and failed to fasten it, slicing open his finger with a hiss as it nearly flew out of his hands. In his mind's eye, the ground grew ever closer, but there was no space in him for panic. If he could only… just… there!

With a snap, his sword was secured, and Link wasted no time in unfolding his sailcloth, his shoulders jerking with familiar pain as it caught. He laughed with relief and exhilaration as he counted the seconds until he landed, his heart pounding in his ears. Fifteen. It wasn't the closest call he'd had, but it was up there.

Link had been lucky enough to land on the ground instead of stranding himself in a treetop, but he knew there must be trees nearby. Unhooking his walking stick, Link began a frantic search for cover, walking as quickly as he dared and not caring when he stumbled. The knight that had seen him fall would be back soon, searching out his landing spot with lanterns to light up the night, and Link had no intention of being there when he arrived.

"Ghirahim?" he said softly, his voice carried away by the wind, and finally he got a response.

 _You have… an alarming habit of cutting yourself on your own sword…_ Ghirahim whispered in his ear, and Link breathed a weak laugh of relief. A part of him had wondered if he would hear it again.

"I think this sword just enjoys slicing me."

 _True,_ Ghirahim murmured. Link had never heard him quite like this. If he hadn't known better, he would have called him… sleepy. _I suppose your plan… did not go as planned?_

"Could have gone better," Link muttered, finally finding a tree and pressing himself against the trunk. "Could have gone worse."

 _Mmm._ The voice was fading already. That flame had taken more out of him than Link had thought, and he worried distantly about what they would do after the next one. _Try to do a little better this time… for both our sakes._ Then he was gone.

Link waited, listening intently for the knight's return. He thought he heard the sound of a voice calling—the beat of the Loftwing's wings was lost in this heavy wind—but eventually the knight gave up, and he was left alone.

With a silent prayer of thanks for Fledge, Link abandoned his tree and slipped further into the darkness, determined to put some space between himself and where he'd landed. It was a second chance, and this time he wouldn't waste it. The shadowy forest melded in around him as he walked, swallowing him up unnoticed, and Link grinned at the realization. Others might be afraid to face the forest at night, but he'd done it before and survived. It looked no different to him.


	14. Chapter 14

_First of all, it's not April. I don't think it's even been a week. I'm going to stop trying to predict when the next update is coming, because I obviously have no clue._

 _Second, I meant to say this earlier, but I decided to pull a bit from Hyrule Warriors when determining some of Ghirahim's powers, though with my own narrative spin. It's not a big deal, but I just thought I'd mention it because if you've only played Skyward Sword it wouldn't be obvious, and would kind of look like I'm pulling stuff out of my butt for a character that's already pretty OP :D_

 _Third, someone asked about me replying to reviews? I've seen authors address guest reviews as part of their chapter updates, but I guess I've always preferred to keep the housekeeping-stuff like this pretty short when I can to keep the word count semi-accurate, so I've never done it. For people who review with accounts that I'm actually able to respond to, I would say that I reply maybe 30% of the time? It depends almost entirely on time available, whether they asked a question, and whether their review touched on something that I felt like I had further thoughts on, because I always feel a little dumb sending responses that basically amount to "thanks!". I've definitely wished I could respond to guest comments in the past, and if I'd been able to, I think I would have responded to yours to say that even though I didn't want to send Link to that depressing place in this part of the story, I honestly had the thought while writing that if I was the type of person to write fanfic for my own fanfic and wanted to write a bad-end sort of scenario, that would have been it ;-; Fortunately, I'm not that far gone. Hope that helps!_

 _As a final note, I honestly do appreciate everyone who reviews this. I have roughly zero confidence in my writing at times, and every time I update, it takes me about half a second to decide that I've just posted THE WORST chapter ever. Your reviews really help to talk me down from that ledge, so thanks XD If you read and don't review, I totally get it and that's fine, too! I hope you're enjoying reading this thing half as much I enjoy writing it, because honestly I'm having a blast ;)_

 _Anyway, sorry for the long intro, and... enjoy?_

* * *

Ghirahim awoke to the sound of music.

For long moments he was content to simply listen to the rippling chords and melodies, awareness a small and fragile thing that he didn't dare examine for fear of losing it entirely. Only as time passed and memory stirred did he start to question such a peaceful awakening, reaching out with his mind to discover where the long, desperate night had taken him.

Leaves hung above in a sheltering canopy, and in the dappled spaces between he could see a night sky just turning to morning, the stars disappearing one by one as the approaching sun chased them away. Link had settled himself high in the tree's branches, his back firmly against the thick trunk, and Ghirahim took a moment to appreciate the familiar image. Link's dark sword glinted bare-bladed from across his lap, and his fingers plucked haltingly at a familiar golden harp as if trying to remember how to play.

Link clearly thought he was alone, but spreading his awareness further, Ghirahim found one of the goddess's child knights crouched at the tree's base—the one with the terrible hair, he thought. A number of ways of dealing with him came immediately to mind, but with another glance at Link, he restrained himself. The fool was only watching for the moment, either waiting to signal for reinforcements or for Link to fall asleep. He would have the chance for neither, now.

With a shimmering trail of magic, Ghirahim emerged to lounge on the branch above Link, looking down. The music didn't stop, but the tension slipped visibly from his young master's shoulders, and he let out a long breath.

"I was hoping you would wake up soon," he admitted, plucking out another chord. "I don't think I'll be able to hide for much longer."

"Not if you keep up that racket, certainly," Ghirahim agreed, and Link laughed under his breath, playing a final run of notes before pressing his hand against the vibrating strings to still them.

"Nobody lives on the surface yet. Almost nobody." He frowned for a moment, then shook his head dismissively. "Most Loftwings aren't trained to fly at night, anyway, and I haven't heard any at all since I landed. We shouldn't be in danger of being found until sunrise at the earliest… but they saw where I fell. They'll know that I can only walk so far."

"Mmm." Ghirahim decided not to enlighten him yet and disrupt what was sure to be the calm before the storm. From what he recalled of the red-head's temperament, he would reveal himself soon enough. "Your… 'friends' must also realize that with me at your side, you are not bound by walking at all."

"I'm sure they do," Link said. Lifting his hand to the harp once more, he started to pick out a new, somewhat heroic-sounding melody. This one flowed more easily from his fingers than the last, though his mouth twisted wryly as he played. "So… the desert flame next?"

"I suppose so." With a long sigh, Ghirahim leaned back, resting his own head against the bark of the trunk. "Eventually. I am not quite rested enough for that."

"Sure." Link nodded, but his attention appeared focused on his music now. Ghirahim took the opportunity to examine himself for the first time since entering the flame, running searching eyes down his long, pale body and wishing again for a mirror. The goddess brat had been right about him remaining outwardly unchanged, but that feeling of an inner shift was more pronounced than ever, and he was not at all sure that he liked it. He felt exposed, as if some outer shell had been worn—or rather, _burned_ —away.

Now his sword… that was another matter entirely. Still black as pitch with a gleaming red diamond at the base of a wicked hilt, the harsh jagged points along the sides had started to smooth away to a more sinuously dangerous edge, and a startlingly familiar diamond pattern was etched along the face of the blade. Demise had crafted that sword, and in many ways Ghirahim himself, in his own image. Under the flame's power, that dark touch had started to chip away, and what it left was a blade more like _himself_ than he would have thought possible. He couldn't get enough of staring at it.

The process was still incomplete, though, and that thought itched with an urgency that drove him towards the next flame despite the pain that awaited—and there would be pain. The fires of Farore did not quite match the tearing agony of Link carving into his core, but it had been all-encompassing, and Ghirahim had slept so deeply after that only dark, scattered memories of the previous day remained. Time was a luxury it seemed they could barely afford, but he thought it might take another day still before he could face that again. At full strength, that flame had nearly devoured him. If he tried it at anything less…

Eying the shadows under his master's eyes, Ghirahim thought that he wasn't the only one in need of rest.

"Did you sleep?" he asked, and Link shook his head, eyes tight. "Do you need to?"

"No." He paused in his playing long enough to flick a finger towards his pouches. "Stamina potion."

Ghirahim did not protest that the one was no substitute for the other, though he strongly suspected that was the case. Instead, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze swept over Link searchingly.

"Something happened," he said, not needing Link's barely contained shudder for confirmation. For all that he played that instrument calmly, fear and frustration boiled beneath his skin.

"What did you do with my blindfold?" Link asked suddenly, and Ghirahim's brow rose in surprise. He had not expected that. "It has to have been you. I don't remember much, but it's too much of a coincidence to think otherwise."

"It was." There seemed no point in denying it. "You kept slipping in and out of consciousness, and I could hardly tell one from the other with your eyes covered."

It was a good reason, if not the only one. Link seemed to accept it, nodding slowly.

"Where is it now?" he asked, and Ghirahim barked a laugh.

"I have no earthly way of knowing, boy. Do you think I tucked it against my heart, like a favor?"

Nodding again as if he'd feared as much, Link sighed.

"Somewhere on the surface, then," he said, and something in his tone made Ghirahim snap.

"I can hardly be expected to know which parts of your poorly planned wardrobe are secretly magical artifacts. I suppose your earrings allow you to read minds?" The music paused as Link half raised a hand to his ear, a startled look on his face. "No, I imagine if there's anything else, it would be your hat. Enchanted to stay on your head, no doubt."

"The blindfold didn't just disappear," Link maintained, taking up the melody a bit faster than before. "If it's on the surface, it can be found. Fi could have done it, so I'm guessing you can, too."

"Do you think I can be manipulated so easily?" Ghirahim asked, shifting on his branch to stare down at him incredulously. "I'm tired, and I see no reason to interrupt more pressing matters to track down a… a security blanket."

"I do!" Link shouted suddenly, the music coming to an abrupt halt with a discordant note that he didn't bother to silence. The strain he had been struggling to hide was now all too apparent. "I didn't get away. Zelda took you, Ghirahim. She took the sword. If I hadn't had a friend come through for me at the last moment, then I would be under guard in my own room right now and you would be only the goddess knows where. Do you know what that would mean? Do you know what _this_ means?" He gestured to sightless eyes that were twisted in helpless anger. "It means that someone could literally wave this sword under my nose and I would never know. It means that that _security blanket_ is the only reason I found you in the first place, and if Zelda manages to take you again, then the only chance I have of getting you back is if she gives you back." He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "So far you haven't given her a lot of incentive to do that."

"Am I supposed to feel guilty?" Ghirahim asked stiffly. "If you want this to work out so badly, maybe you should try taking a firmer hand with me." Snapping so that he loomed over Link and ignoring the way the branch trembled beneath him, he leaned forward. "There is not a thing I do that you are not capable of changing on a whim."

"Do you not want this to work out?" For once, Link did not rise to the bait, craning his neck so his blue eyes pierced Ghirahim's dark ones. "I do, more than I probably should."

Ghirahim drew back, and immediately berated himself for doing so. It was what he had wanted, but something in that raw honesty felt like more than he had bargained for, rubbing against those newly exposed parts of himself that Demise's absence had left bare. It was true that Link was trying harder to keep him than he had any reason to, much harder than Ghirahim would have expected given the circumstances. Perhaps some reciprocation would not be out of order.

Discrete movement from below caught his eye, and he welcomed the distraction.

"A moment, Link, while I check on something," he murmured, and ignoring Link's questioning look, he disappeared. Sure enough, their young spy had been slowly slipping away, doubtless to go retrieve the goddess and her dogs. The light in the sky must be almost bright enough for him to do so.

Ghirahim appeared before him with a pitying grin, and he reared back, eyes widening.

"Li—mmph!"

"None of that, now," Ghirahim sang softly, throwing a hand around his mouth to stifle the noise. This human was much bulkier than Link, but he was easy enough to subdue, especially once Ghirahim summoned a dagger to his hand, waving it lazily across the boy's line of vision before pressing it against his neck. "You may be only a mouse underfoot, but you could still alert the hawk, and we can't have that."

To his satisfaction, the soft sound of a harp drifted once more from the treetop above. Link hadn't heard the scuffle. The fool trembled against him, still struggling feebly despite the dagger, and Ghirahim realized with amusement that he was more furious than afraid.

"Let's see what your little mind has to work with," Ghirahim said, delving in with a tiny trickle of magic. Most humans had a weak point in their loyalty, some doubt or insecurity brittle enough for Ghirahim to shatter and exploit. Not all, of course—there were those like Link who held firm to their values, making it impossible for his magic to take root—but enough that he had used the ability to great effect in wars past. For all the trust they placed in it, he had proven the weakness of the human heart time and time again.

Now, however, Ghirahim's searching tendrils rammed up against a loyalty so impenetrable it would not be disrupted. Surprisingly, this boy's devotion to the goddess—no, to her mortal form, though he still revered the other—had strength to rival Link's. There would be no coercing him into anything that might harm her. Frowning, Ghirahim felt around for another way in, annoyance stealing across his features. His hatred for Ghirahim himself was certainly flattering, but offered no help. Could this buffoon really be so steadfast? Then he found it: a thick vein of guilt ensnaring his mind, overlaid heavily with a jealousy he had tried very hard to repress. Intriguingly, much of it centered around Link. What had this naughty brute of a boy been up to?

It was an opening, and he took it, his dark magic slipping in and expanding until it consumed everything. Ghirahim let the boy go and he swayed on his feet, flinching as the demon circled in front of him and sending him a hateful glare. No, he did not care for Ghirahim at _all_.

"You will remember that I belong to Link, and act only according to his wishes," Ghirahim told him, and some of that hatred diminished as guilt wracked his features. "What is your name? Quietly, if you please."

"Groose," he muttered after a moment, and Ghirahim smirked.

"Hmmm." It amazed him that a name like 'Link' was still somehow the best name these ridiculous people had come up with. "And how much did you overhear… Groose?"

"I…" His lips peeled back in a snarl. "Not much. Mostly a lot of yelling about a blindfold."

"I see." He might not know what it meant, but the goddess certainly would if he told her. This _Groose_ was one of those he had been ordered not to harm, but he could find a way around that if he wanted. _If_ he wanted. "Stay here like a good boy and make no sound until I tell you otherwise. If you do, Link will be… most displeased."

Guilt painting his face once more, Groose nodded, and Ghirahim knew he would obey. His now overblown feelings of obligation to Link—and by extension, Ghirahim—held him there like shackles.

Moments later, Ghirahim was in the tree once more, and Link's music halted.

"Did you see something?" he asked, and Ghirahim chuckled.

"Only a bird," he said, and Link grimaced, slipping his harp back into its pouch.

"If the Loftwings are out, knights could start flying in any time now. We need to get moving."

"So we do." He studied the stubborn set to Link's jaw. "You really want to retrieve that blindfold?"

"I do." Link nodded firmly. "Zelda knows where the flames are, and she'll have plenty of time to plan for our arrival. Unless you think you can face another flame already?" Ghirahim didn't bother responding. They both knew he couldn't. "Maybe we hold them off long enough to use the flame—hopefully we do—but after that… it's not if she takes the sword, it's when. Planning for anything else would be stupidly optimistic. At least this way I'll know where she's keeping you."

"You would have to keep it hidden. She could take the blindfold just as easily as the sword if she finds it on you," Ghirahim pointed out, and Link's eyes flared.

"She wouldn't dare," he said grimly. "Not after I remind her what it cost me."

Ghirahim almost asked, but the look on Link's face made him reconsider. The boy had a point, loathe though he was to admit it. Events would almost certainly play out as he'd predicted. Then again, if Link thought that knowing the sword's location would be enough for him to retrieve it, then he was the one being foolishly optimistic.

"I do not know how _Fi_ did things, but I cannot find an item just by knowing what it is," he said instead, tossing his head. "I must have something of similar energy or resonance in order to track it down."

"No, that's how Fi did it," Link said, considering the problem. "Here." And with a small smile flitting across his face, he removed his earrings, holding them out for Ghirahim to take.

"You're not serious," Ghirahim said flatly, though he took the red earrings to examine.

"They don't help me read minds, but they do shield me from the heat, to an extent." Despite his innocent tone, there was no mistaking the grin on his face now. "More importantly, I found them in the same place I found the blindfold. And…" A small blue scale was retrieved from a pouch and dropped into his hands as well. "This too. There was one more thing that was the same, but I don't have it on me. Will these work?"

Ghirahim stared at him, then at the small items in his hand. They did have a similar energy despite their obviously differing origins. Focusing his attention outward, he found to his surprise that there _was_ something out there matching that resonance, however weak it was.

"These will do," he said grudgingly, committing the signature to memory as he returned them to Link's hands. Slipping the scale back in its pouch, Link started redoing the earrings. Ghirahim supposed there was no real reason not to retrieve the artifact and several good reasons to do so, but… "I truly despise that rag."

"Why?" Link asked curiously, tilting his head as he attached the last red earring, but Ghirahim only grunted. It wasn't the sort of thing he felt like putting into words.

"After we retrieve it, we'll both need to rest," he said, watching as Link fished out a vividly green potion, feeling the marked stopper carefully and sniffing the contents before drinking it. "I can find us a place that's safe."

"You don't see me arguing," Link muttered, though already he'd perked up a little. With a final, soft stroke of the sword's hilt, Link reached over his back to attach it to its leather fastening. "Are you ready to go?"

"Almost," Ghirahim said, the branch swaying beneath him as he rose to his feet. "Wait here for a moment while I cover your tracks."

"Does it matter?" Link asked, but Ghirahim was already gone, the question cut off halfway.

To all appearances, Groose had not moved a muscle since he'd left, but he straightened now with a mutinous scowl.

"Good news!" Ghirahim told him brightly. "I've discussed the matter with Link, and it seems he has a task for you after all. Do it well and you might even start to make up for all the trouble you must have caused in the past. Listen closely."

Perhaps Link could retrieve the sword on his own, but a bit of added insurance never hurt, and having a man on the inside might mean the difference between success and failure. The goddess would discover and reverse his interference eventually, once they were well beyond her reach, and no harm would be done. In fact, he would make certain of it—a gesture of good faith on his part. She could hardly be angry with him knowing that he could have done so much worse.

By the time he returned from sending Groose toddling on his way, Link was brushing crumbs from his face.

"Batreaux gave me his extra biscuits," he said by way of explanation, shaking his head in apparent amusement. "He's not much of a cook, but it's the only food I have so I guess I should be glad he did. Why do you want to hide that we were here?"

"The less anyone knows about your whereabouts, the better," Ghirahim said vaguely. He was certain Link would not approve of what he'd done, however harmless and necessary it had been. "In times like these, it doesn't hurt to be cautious. Are you ready?"

"I am." Carefully raising himself to one knee, he held out a hand that Ghirahim took. "Any idea where we're going?"

"We'll find out soon." Closing his eyes in concentration, Ghirahim found the source of the resonance again, placing the location firmly in his mind. The impression he got was of somewhere… green.

Sure enough, a flicker of a second later they were still in the woods, though a deeper, darker part than Ghirahim had ever seen. Thick trees towered over them, their enormous overlapping leaves blocking out the sun so completely that only thin green light filtered through, dim and cool. Well worn paths crisscrossed each other as if someone had traversed them often, unlikely though that seemed in this deserted patch of forest, but a thin coating of mist hugging the ground hid all but that they were there.

"That's odd," Ghirahim muttered. "I didn't think we were so near the forest when it fell."

"The wind must have carried it," Link reasoned, starting to relax beside him. "Or a bird." He froze suddenly, and his voice lowered. "Where are the birds?"

He was right. The ambient chirps from birds and bugs was gone now, their absence glaring in the utter silence. Something about a forest without them felt unnatural, even suffocating.

"I'm not sure," Ghirahim said, surprising himself by speaking in the same hushed voice. He had intended to come as close as he could to the blindfold's presence, but though the resonance was much stronger now, he had missed by a good couple miles. "Perhaps we startled them. Hold on."

Another wave of diamonds later they were standing in a nearly identical patch of forest, and Ghirahim frowned. They should have come out almost on top of the blindfold this time, but it felt about the same distance away now, just in another direction. Grabbing Link more tightly, he tried again, and again. Very little changed around them, unless the mist perhaps thickened slightly, but they never came any closer than they had the first time. Gritting his teeth, he tried again.

"Wait," Link gasped from beside him, and Ghirahim stopped. "Let me go."

Looking down, he found Link swaying in his grasp. As soon as he released his grip, Link sank to a crouch.

"I'm not used to that," Link muttered. "All that squeezing… just give me a second."

"I don't understand," Ghirahim said, irritation not quite masking his unease. "I should be able to take us straight to it."

"Maybe you're still tired," Link suggested, and Ghirahim scoffed. Even exhausted, he had never traveled anywhere but where he meant to go. "Is it too far to walk?"

"...No." It could be only an hour's walk from where they were, maybe less, and all this pointless popping around was certainly not helping him recover. Still… "No, but I don't like this place."

"Me neither," Link admitted with a small shiver. "We've come this far, though. Let's just get the blindfold and leave."

"Very well," Ghirahim said slowly. There was obviously no dissuading him. "Keep your wits about you."

"I usually do," Link said, unhooking his stick. "Lead the way."

Their trek through the woods started out silent and uneventful, the mist that eddied over their feet only growing stronger despite the advancing sun hidden overhead. Multiple paths led every which way, again giving Ghirahim the impression that someone else had walked them often even if it was only wildlife, but he picked a path heading generally in the right direction and they forged ahead, the only sound their own soft footsteps and the tapping of Link's stick in the dirt. After long minutes of mist and trees that were almost indistinguishable from each other, Link started to hum.

"Would you knock that off?" Ghirahim said irritably after a while when he didn't stop, and Link blinked, abashed.

"Sorry," he said, a faint hint of confusion passing over his face. They walked on again in silence, Link pausing occasionally to shake his head. A few minutes later, the humming started up again.

Gritting his teeth, Ghirahim tried to ignore it. He could understand the desire to fill this heavy silence up with noise, but he wished Link would have picked a different tune. This one felt far too cheerful for such a dark, solemn forest.

Eventually, they reached a clearing, and Ghirahim paused, turning around in a slow circle.

"This can't be right," he muttered. It was as if the blindfold's presence had… shifted, moving from the fixed point he'd been following. Now he turned back to where it led disbelievingly. "I'm certain that is where we came from. Link, don't wander off!"

"What?" Link halted, swaying a little in confusion. "I'm not going anywhere. I just thought…"

"Don't think," Ghirahim snapped. "Don't move. Just wait for me to figure this out."

"…Okay." He sounded dazed, and Ghirahim shook his head. If there was ever a next time, he was going to force Link to sleep rather than downing that obviously useless green potion. Deciding that he had no better options, Ghirahim turned back the way they had come.

"Follow me."

Link followed, still humming and occasionally whistling that irritating tune no matter how many times Ghirahim barked at him to stop. The mist _was_ growing thicker, now hovering halfway up his knees, and he quickened their pace. It could have been the way they'd come or another way entirely for all he could tell, but the blindfold felt closer now, so he tried to put off the thought that they were simply retracing their steps. Once they reached the next clearing, though, it became impossible to ignore.

"Again?" Ghirahim said, staring in the direction the blindfold was pulling him towards. There could be no denying that he was facing the way they had come, but according to senses that had hitherto been reliable, that was also the direction they were supposed to go. "That's impossible! It doesn't make any sense!"

"What's impossible?" Link asked, bouncing from foot to foot. He almost looked a second away from dancing, as if that tune played in his mind even when he wasn't humming it.

"We're going around in circles," Ghirahim growled. "We have to be."

"Why don't we follow the lights?" Link suggested.

"Lights?" Ghirahim spat. "What li—"

The words froze in his throat, and he whirled to face Link. Leaning against his stick, Link's eyes shone too brightly in the dim light.

"What lights, Link?" he tried again cautiously, and Link gestured.

"Those ones." Ghirahim wished there was anything in his expression to suggest that he'd said something odd, but there was not. "I think we're supposed to follow them."

"There's nothing there," Ghirahim said coldly. "You can't see anything."

Link tilted his head. "Yes I can."

A chill ran through Ghirahim.

"That's it," he said. "Forget about the blindfold. We're leaving."

"No!" Link said sharply, backing away. "No teleporting. Don't take me anywhere."

Ghirahim stopped, grinding his teeth.

"Very well, _master_ ," he hissed. "We will continue on, but keep your eyes closed, and do not _under any circumstances_ look at those lights."

Link looked back longingly. "But—"

"Eyes closed!"

Ghirahim hurried Link on with constant, furious reminders not to look around him, which Link largely ignored. He could feel himself growing tense as that gleam in Link's eyes grew, bright and crimson. Link had finally ceased his constant humming, but the music still felt hauntingly present in the air around them, and he hoped Link wouldn't think to pull out his harp. An instrument like that might give those notes real power.

This time he was unsurprised when he arrived at the clearing only to feel the blindfold's presence behind him once more. If any woods could be said to have a will, these ones did. The air practically stank now with ancient magic that wanted to keep them lost, which meant he could trust nothing, not even his eyes. Especially not his eyes.

That should have given Link an advantage, but it didn't.

"They're brighter now," he said urgently as Ghirahim swept around once more. "Ghirahim, I think we're supposed to follow them."

"I don't see anything," Ghirahim said, his patience wearing thin. "I told you not to look. Just follow me and—"

"No, you follow me!" Link snapped, and to Ghirahim's horror, he did, his legs carrying him where he did not want to go.

"That's enough," Ghirahim growled, feeling strangely out of breath. "Release me, or you will live to regret it. Your screams will tear your throat by the time I'm done with you. Are you listening, sky child?" Link only turned, walking into the mist that swallowed him up to his waist, and Ghirahim felt his first true moment of fear. "Link!"

"Don't worry," Link said, his voice too calm, and Ghirahim noticed that with every step he relied on his stick to guide him less and less, his feet walking the path with a familiarity they should have lacked. "The lights know the way, I'm sure of it. Just follow me."

He could do nothing else. It was written into his core now: where Link went, Ghirahim would follow.

"Let me go, you arrogant brat!"

Ghirahim insulted and pleaded, making wild promises and threats that he had no intention of keeping. Link did not silence him, but he also didn't listen, humming that dreadful tune as he walked. All the while, that fog crept higher, though Link seemed not to notice. If anything, his footing grew more certain until eventually he abandoned his stick entirely, slipping it into his belt and retrieving his golden harp instead.

Eying the instrument as if it were something deadly, Ghirahim renewed his protests.

"Put that away, Link. I'm tired of that song. I want to hear something else."

"I like it," Link said absently, plucking at the strings hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as the song began to flow. Soon it echoed through the forest, each soft note of the harp reverberating through him, and Ghirahim started to relax despite himself. The lively tune danced inside him, and he wanted nothing more than to dance along with it. He had always been a good dancer.

Link's steps before him were like a dance, light and mischievous.

"This forest is so green," he marveled softly, and it was enough to bring Ghirahim back to himself with a rush of cold fear.

"Link!" Running to get ahead of him, Ghirahim grabbed Link by the shoulders to stare him down. A haze of red clung to Link's eyes like a veil, but he stared up through it as if it were nothing. "Look at me, Link. The lights, the forest… none of it is real. You cannot _see_."

"I see you," he said simply, and Ghirahim jerked back, finding himself without breath once more. Brushing past him, Link continued on his way, and Ghirahim gathered himself enough to try again, his feet following after automatically.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he said, allowing the hint of a sneer to enter his voice. "Aren't you the goddess's _chosen hero_?" Link's fingers stumbled over the strings of his harp, a frown crossing his face, and Ghirahim pressed on eagerly. "What of the goddess? What of… Zelda?" He grimaced. "She's going to think you are dead, Link. You'll never see her again."

Link's frown deepened, and he played a few notes of something else before shaking his head.

"You talk too much," he said flatly, picking up the now terribly familiar melody once more. "Stop talking."

Dread filled him, but he obediently went silent, trailing after Link like a shadow.

The fog had risen to Link's neck. Before long, it would swallow him whole, and he was sure that Link would be lost in truth. Ghirahim thought he knew how the paths had grown so worn now, and wondered what had happened to all those lost souls who had come before them, those others lured in by the woods whose feet had prepared the way. The music of the forest lulled him into complacency once more, and he thought with a detached sort of misery that finding another master in a place like this would be impossible. It seemed unlikely that any who came seeking his sword would escape the forest's thrall.

Ghirahim sighed heavily, then froze at the sound that came out of him, though his feet soon carried him on. Of course. Link had ordered him not to speak, but there were other sounds he could make. Which meant…

The music seduced him, cloying his thoughts, and he decided that the first order of business was to drown it out. Casting in his mind desperately for something that would do the trick, he remembered the heroic melody Link had played not long ago in a friendlier tree top. Holding it firmly in his thoughts, Ghirahim began to hum, holding his fingers to his ears to block out all other sound… and the harp stopped.

Whirling around, Link stared at him, tense fingers hovering over the strings. Ghirahim stared back, still humming. After a long pause, Link looked away, plucking aimlessly at the golden instrument, but the old melody refused to coalesce, fading away each time in a jumble of discordant notes. Ghirahim continued humming, not daring to stop as Link's meager efforts halted once more and he tilted his head, listening. Finally, Link brought his hand up to the harp and, with excruciating slowness, began to pick out a new song, the one Ghirahim was humming. _His_ song. The Song of the Hero.

This melody had power, too, Ghirahim realized as it warmed the air like sunlight, and he felt a rush of hope. Each quivering note from the harp slipped through him gently, endowing him with strength.

The red haze did not fade from Link's eyes, but he continued to play, staring at Ghirahim with growing awareness. A few times he opened his mouth only to close it again, but Ghirahim waited patiently. Finally, Link spoke, his voice a rough croak.

"Help me…"

Stepping forward and humming louder, Ghirahim gestured meaningfully to his throat, and Link seemed to understand, licking his lips before speaking once more.

"Tell me… what I need to do," he whispered.

"Don't stop playing," Ghirahim told him, finally letting his end of the song drop, and Link nodded shakily. His hands trembled on the harp without Ghirahim's voice to guide him, but he played on. "Order me to take you to safety."

"Take me…" Link's voice shook. "I'm sorry. Take me to the blindfold."

Ghirahim growled, but he didn't need telling twice. Scooping Link up in his arms and holding him well above the mist, Ghirahim ran, sprinting through the forest at supernatural speeds. A few times Link almost lost the melody, his hands freezing in panic as the thrall threatened to consume him, but Ghirahim's humming set him straight once more, and he played on. The two of them passed clearing after clearing, Ghirahim spinning about to run the way they had come and feeling the blindfold's presence grow closer each time, until finally they emerged in an open space that was different from where they had been.

"There it is!" Link shouted, staring fixedly in one direction even as his hands continued to play. Following his gaze, Ghirahim saw it: a blue scrap of cloth fluttering from the branches above.

Even as he found it, the branches rustled as if to withdraw, and Link cried out in wordless protest. Ghirahim snapped, and there was a large crack as the branch broke off, plummeting to the earth.

"Let me down," Link said urgently. "Tie it around my eyes."

Ghirahim set him down, grimacing as the fog nearly swallowed him up. Feeling blindly through the mist for where it had landed, Ghirahim finally found the blue cloth, grasping it firmly so nothing more could steal it away. The fog was so thick now that only the sound of the harp led him back.

"Are you sure about this?" There was no time for hesitation, except… "You won't be able to see."

Link only laughed, the music swelling with him.

"I paid that price already," he said, grim despite his mirth. "I guess I can't stop paying it. Do it."

Ghirahim affixed the blindfold with deft fingers, tying it firmly around Link's eyes, and the red light was doused as if by water. Link let out a long sigh, then abruptly spun around, raising a furious fist as if at the forest itself.

"Do you think you can make me forget who I am?" he roared, and to Ghirahim's shock, golden light illuminated his hand, three perfect triangles arranged to form a single, larger one. The fog burned away before it, revealing tall trees that should have seemed to tower over Link, though he somehow held his own. Scooping up a handful of dirt from the ground, Link shook it at them. "Do you think you can have me? Someday, my body will join this dirt, and even then you cannot have me. I _am_ the hero of the goddess, in this life and in all others, but my choices are still my own, and I do not choose this!"

"That's enough!" Ghirahim shouted, turning his head. He was sure if he stared at that holy light for too long, he would go as blind as Link. "Let it go! We need to get out of here."

Link continued to glare, the blindfold not nearly enough to mask the intensity of his anger, but to Ghirahim's relief, the light from his hand flickered and died, and he nodded. Grasping Link by the shoulders, Ghirahim summoned the diamonds that consumed them, and moments later they were on the outskirts of the strange forest, safely out of its reach.

Trees still surrounded them, but they were not incredibly old or tall, and the chirping of crickets nearby made Ghirahim weak with relief. The sky above was a shock, though. He could have sworn they had been gone for only an hour, two at most, but the sun had dropped well below the horizon now, true night just starting to settle in.

Link sank to his knees as soon as they were out, hugging himself as tremors wracked his body. Ghirahim watched uncertainly for a moment before kneeling beside him, placing a single hand on his shoulder. It appeared to be the right thing to do, because Link leaned against him, shaking harder.

"You're released from all orders," Link mumbled. "All of them. I'm sorry. Just… please don't harm my friends. I'm sorry."

"I'll do my best," Ghirahim promised, not knowing what else to say, and Link nodded, rubbing a hand across his mouth.

"Nobody should be able to do that to anyone else," he whispered fiercely. "Nobody. I wish I couldn't do it to you."

"I know." Guiltily, he thought of Groose up in the sky, waiting to act under his orders. Too late to do anything about it now. "I'm sorry."

"No, _thank you_ ," Link said, and Ghirahim stiffened. "You got me out of there. I owe you."

"At this rate, you will never stop owing me," Ghirahim said almost automatically, and was rewarded with a weak laugh. For a long moment they only knelt there together, listening to the comforting sounds of the forest. Finally, Link stood up, and Ghirahim followed.

"I guess that was probably a mistake," Link admitted with a shaky laugh. "But it feels… good… to know I can find you again."

Link turned to face him, and for once, Ghirahim realized that Link knew exactly what he was, the thread that bound them together made visible to his eyes.

"Agreed," Ghirahim said. "On both accounts." He hesitated, his gaze turned considering. "I did not realize that the Triforce was still in your possession."

"What?" Link tilted his head, and Ghirahim felt a strange moment of panic. "It's not. Everyone says it's floating in the sky over the Goddess Statue, though I… haven't seen it."

From what Ghirahim had just seen, Link was obviously mistaken, but he decided it was a thread to be pursued another day. Still, he couldn't keep from glancing at the leather of Link's gauntlet, completely unmarred despite the light that had burned through it so recently. Link still hadn't released his fist.

"What are you holding?" he asked, and Link frowned, opening his hand to feel its contents.

"Dirt, I think. And… an acorn?" Link shuddered, dropping it. "Any seed that grows from that forest must be cursed."

"Perhaps." It didn't look cursed to him. It almost seemed to give off a golden light, and Ghirahim imagined how the radiance of the Triforce must have shone around it in Link's fist. "We should find a place to sleep. Somehow, I did not find that experience all that restful."

"You're right," Link agreed, sounding equally exhausted. "It might be a little early for it, but if we can find somewhere safe, I think I could sleep for a day and a night."

"It's night already," Ghirahim informed him quietly, and Link paused.

"A night and a day, then," he amended, but he looked unnerved, and Ghirahim knew what he was thinking. Had they spent one day in those woods? Two days? More? "We can make plans for the next flame later. Lead the way… please," he added hastily.

Ghirahim was more than happy to do so, though he paused to kick a bit of dirt over the acorn, tamping it down with his foot before taking Link's arm and whisking them away. It was probably a pointless gesture, but he made it anyway. Who could say what might sprout from such a seed? With any luck, maybe something… good.


End file.
